Scary Sherri
by Paigeypie96
Summary: Book: The Oblivion Society This is just a fanfiction about Sherri Becquerel and how it might have worked if her S.O. was a "goth" named Anastasia. Keep your flames to yourself. View disclaimers inside. Rated M for mature language and same sex pairing.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Forward & Disclaimers: **Alright, people. This fiction is based on a book called "The Oblivion Society." Vivian Gray is the main character in the book, but I became fond of Sherri Becquerel, so I decided to write a fanfiction with the main character as her! None of the characters (except Anastasia) or settings belong to me. They are the property of Marcus Alexander Hart. This is just how I think it might have worked out for Sherri if there was another character...named Anastasia. For those of you who are waiting for me to update Columbia's Beginning, you're going to have to wait a little bit longer. I'm sorry, my dedicated readers, but this idea wouldn't leave me alone. The good news though, I'm on summer vacation, so I should be updating faster than before. So, I hope you guys enjoy reading this fanfiction. Have a nice day everyone, and thanks for reading!

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**Scary Sherri**

A twenty one year old woman sat on the edge of the sidewalk, bleakly aware of her surroundings. It was nine o'clock in the morning—definitely too early for this particular young woman to be up. In one bony hand she firmly held a malt liquor, and the other held aloft an unfiltered cigarette. This was the usual appearance of Sherri Becquerel. Seeing her without a drink and a cigarette would be rarer than seeing a miracle right before your eyes; although, this sight did occur on occasion, just as miracles did.

"Scary" Sherri was a name that when heard, struck fear into the hearts of most people in Stillwater, Florida. This particular girl took on the appearance of a Goth, but if you told her so, you'd be missing some teeth shortly thereafter. Sherri was…not an easy girl to get along with, that much was to be sure of. Her translucent white skin was pulled tightly over her bony skull, and a sheen of midnight colored hair crowned her head and fell past her shoulders. She was short, flat-chested, and waiflike. Her extremely gaunt figure made her average sized head appear larger than it really was. Smudges of black eye shadow could be seen over her oversized, ice blue eyes, and a smear of black lip gloss blotted out her small and narrow mouth.

This individual had some friends, but anyone rarely said anything to her. Sure, they said things _about _her, but Sherri wasn't the type of girl who cared about gossip. Her best friend was Vivian Gray—a girl she worked with. _Her _nickname was Powderpuff, and Sherri was well aware that Vivian hated being called that. Other than that, Sherri's span of socialization ranged from zero to none, unless she was telling a bartender to give her some alcohol.

Sherri leaned against a wooden telephone pole and closed her eyes, exhaling deeply. She'd have to get going soon if she wanted to get to her job on time. She tried to be at Boltzmann's Market by 9:45am. That gave her some time to open everything up, to save Powderpuff's ass from being chewed out, and spit out, by the Head Ass himself.

She raised the bottle of her drink up to her lips to find it empty. A snarl graced her lips and she hurled the bottle away. "Fuck!" she cursed loudly. There was no one around to hear her obscenity. The glass bottle landed with a clink somewhere a bit away. Sherri stood up slowly and stiffly, and straightened out her red _Black Rain _t-shirt. Her black mini skirt was hoisted above her hips, so she pulled it back into place. The ripped fishnets and combat boots she'd chosen to wear were still in place and fine.

Once her self-appearance check was complete and everything was in order, Sherri turned on her heel and faced away from the telephone pole, only to be ran into and knocked flat on her ass. "Ouch! Fuckerall!" Sherri shrieked at the person who'd run into her. Instead of being knocked into her previous seat on the sidewalk, this person had caused her to fall into the wet street. Now her back was covered in wet grime and muck. She hissed another obscenity under her breath.

"I'm so sorry!" said her assailant.

Sherri turned towards the voice and found herself awe-struck.

"I'm sorry! I didn't see you there. I have this class to get to and—I feel like such a total idiot," exclaimed the girl who'd knocked Sherri down. She continued to go on about how sorry she was, but Sherri wouldn't hear it. She raised her hand to silence the rambling girl.

"It's alright. I'm okay, just a little wet," Sherri said, snickering at her word choice. Her ice blue eyes flickered over the other girl. Her skin was as pale as Sherri's, which was pretty damn amazing. She was thin, but not in the extreme. Her build was about as perfect as one could manage. The attire this pain staking-ly gorgeous woman was wearing consisted of a black, leather trench coat over a corset-like vest, and her legs were also fishnet-clad with a mini skirt a tad bit longer than the one Sherri was wearing. On her hands, she wore fishnet gloves, and on her feet were the same combat boots as Sherri's. A look to her face revealed green eyes, high cheekbones, an eyebrow piercing, and bobbed, short black hair that hid one eye from society.

The girl's eyes caught Sherri looking at her, and once their eyes locked, she flashed a perfectly white smile. "My name is Anastasia. I'm new to Stillwater," she introduced herself.

Sherri smirked and replied, "I'm Sherri. I'm old to Stillwater."

"I'm sorry to have knocked you over. Here, take this…" Anastasia trailed off as she silently slipped out of her trench coat. She handed it over to Sherri, who looked at her suspiciously.

"Thanks, Anaya. Can I call you that?" Sherri finally gave in and took the coat from her. She slid it on and marveled at how big it was on her. It was more feminine shaped than Sherri herself. But, it was also warm and it shielded her back.

"Absolutely," Anastasia agreed with a warm smile. Sherri couldn't help but flash a small smile back.

"So, where'd you say you were headed?" Sherri asked, having a hard time remembering.

"An optional class down at the community college, which I am late for... I suppose I won't be going today. Mr. Barker locks the door after a certain time. Oh well, it's not like I need the class anyways," Anastasia explained. "Where are you headed, Sherri?" The beautiful stranger looked in Sherri's empty, blue eyes with sincere interest.

"Boltzmann's Market," she said dully. "The job hours suck and a hobo wouldn't wipe his ass with the pay... It's living hell, but the only job I can find around here." Sherri took a drag of her almost-gone cigarette and knocked the ashes into the street.

Anastasia giggled. "Yeah, I know that place. I was going to go there after my class. Mind if I walk you there?"

Sherri considered for a moment and nodded. "Sure, why not?"

The walk to Boltzmann's Market was usually a long one, but with Anastasia around, it seemed to fly by. It seemed the entire way there, they were talking. Sherri had never once in her life been that open with anyone, not even Vivian. All the while, she snuggled into the big, warm trench coat Anastasia had given her.

Finally, they were standing in front of the market, and it was exactly 9:45. "Well, if that lard-ass Boltzmann does change my schedule, I should be working register two. Why don't you drop by and—?" Sherri was cut off abruptly as a big Hummer pulled up beside them. Out popped the poster boy of the year… He walked up to them and gave them both a dazzling smile.

"Fusion Fuel—!" the man began, but Sherri silenced him with a look that held a thousand death-threats. His eyes widened and he turned away from the couple, walking back to his Hummer.

"Anyway, Anaya, if you're hanging around, why don't you drop by and see me at my check stand?" Sherri asked hopefully. She didn't know why, but she felt happier around Anastasia than she had since she was fourteen.

Anastasia flashed that dazzling smile at Sherri and replied, "Of course. In fact, why don't I go in with you?" She winked. "I know how Boltzmann is. I'll keep him off your back."

"You've got yourself a deal," Sherri replied with a smirk. And with that, she walked in front of Anastasia and into the market. Before they were at her register, she glanced over her shoulder and found Anastasia eyeing her legs hungrily. "See something you like?" she asked bluntly with a small laugh.

Sherri turned around to face Anastasia, who was blushing like mad. "It's cute when you blush." That statement caused Anastasia's cheeks to become redder, and she let out a nervous titter.

"SHERRI BECQUEREL!" a booming voice bellowed behind her. She swiveled on the spot and looked emptily at her boss.

"What is it?" she growled.

"I've got a shipment of Beta Burn in my office, go unload it!" the blob of meat that was her boss ordered.

"Do it yourself, Boltzmann! I'm busy!" Sherri barked back. She watched Boltzmann's beady eyes dart from her to Anastasia, then back to her. He glared daggers at her and then waddled away. With a mad huff and a roll of her eyes, Sherri turned back to Anastasia.

"I'm sorry about that. He's just a—"

"Bitch?" Anastasia guessed with a raised eyebrow.

"You got it. He just needs to fuck off my case," she growled.

"Well, I need to go get some groceries and get out of here, because, frankly, it smells like the red tide in here," Anastasia remarked as she crinkled her nose against the vibrant smell of cabbage. Sherri nodded in agreement. "I'd take you away if I could, though. Working here must be a bitch!" Again, Sherri nodded. "Do you have a piece of paper, Sherri?" Without a word, Sherri reached down behind the counter and pulled out a pad of sticky-notes and a pencil.

Anastasia took the paper and pencil and quickly jotted down her number, then pushed it back towards Sherri. "There you go. Call me if you ever want to hang out…get sauced… I'm up for anything, really." Sherri grinned a little and took the paper back from her new friend.

A short while after that, Vivian Gray walked into the market looking exhausted and disappointed. Her flaming red hair was pulled into a loose ponytail and her powder blue vest was in place. She tossed a glance over at Sherri before walking over to Mr. Boltzmann's "Fresh Catch" makeshift display and closing, it to kill the smell of red tide. Sherri sighed as the speakers came on and boomed, "_Vivian, please come to the office. Vivian, to the office immediately_."

With a disappointed sigh, Vivian trudged to the "office." Sherri looked at Anastasia. "You'd better go before Powderpuff comes back, and oh, look! It's my first customer of the day!" she mockingly cheered as she eyed the senior citizen carrying a can of potted meat.

Anastasia chuckled a bit. "Good luck, sweetie." With that, she leaned over the counter and kissed Sherri's cheek. Then she ran off into one of the isles and Sherri could only stare after her**.**

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**Author's Afterward**: Okay, that's the first chapter. What do you guys think? R/R please!


	2. Chapter 2

Some of the day had passed and Sherri had already pointed out the news on the tabloids to Vivian. Now Sherri was ringing up four dangerously popular cheerleaders' nail polishes that were all different shades, but to the simple minds of the preppies, they were all PINK. She tried not to listen to their irrelevant gossip, but their voices were so irritating. To block out the sound she let her mind switch over to thoughts of Anastasia. She smirked to herself. That did the trick.

Suddenly, all four of the girls burst out into a wailing-laughter with portions so high pitched that only small dogs and dolphins could hear. She didn't bother with giving them a glare because she knew they'd just shake it off and continue. So, she just kept ringing up the bottles of nail polish and staring blankly into the burning red lasers of her check stand.

As Sherri scanned the final bottle, she held out her hand and one of the girls dropped a perfumed wad of bills into it. Another cheerleader gasped and pointed to Sherri's bangles hanging loosely from her bony arm. "Oh, my _Gawwd_! I _luuuuuuuve _that bracelet! The plastic one with the barbed wire stuck in it, right? I have one _exactly _like that!"

Without lifting her eyes from the conveyer belt, Sherri pulled the bracelet from her wrist, held it at arms length between two fingers like it was the most vial thing she'd ever seen, and dropped it into a metal trashcan with a satisfying clunk.

From an isle watching the ordeal, Anastasia chuckled softly.

"Ugh, speaking of 'red tide' …" the cheerleader smirked as if she had all the wit in the world. "God, why do Goths have to be such bitches?"

Anastasia's mouth dropped open, and she wanted to rush out there and literally beat the hell out of those cheerleaders.

Sherri's empty eyes snapped up from the counter, locking onto the cheerleader with a glare so full of fiery hatred that it could have burnt her alive. "I am _not _a goth. I am an individual."

Anastasia snickered again as the cheerleaders were all suddenly silent. After a long silence, one of them piped up in a numb rebuttal, "Well, you're still a bitch." Sherri handed the girl her exact change with an unfazed shrug.

"Hey, at least I don't have cottage-cheese thighs, Fatty Fat Pants." The cheerleaders burst out in a chorus of shocked gasps as Anastasia burst out in laughter.

"You…you _bitch! _We're like, _never _shopping here _again_, you…you _bitch!_"

The infuriated cheerleaders all rushed out the door. Sherri smiled wryly. "Always play to your target audience."

"God damn it, Becquerel! What the hell was that?!" Boltzmann screamed as he waddled up to the check stand. "What's the matter with you?! That's no way to treat a goddamn customer! You're _fired_, Becquerel! Get out of my goddamn store!" he bellowed.

She took a cigarette out of the trench coat's pocket and stuffed it into the corner of her mouth and lit it up. "Well, it's about time. See you all in Hell, motherfuckers." She gave a sarcastic salute and excited Boltzmann's Market for the last time.

Anastasia dropped her groceries and quickly ran out after Sherri. She slowed to match Sherri's pace as she caught up with her. "Nice going in there! That was nothing short of amazing!" Anastasia exclaimed, putting her hand on Sherri's shoulder.

"It was long overdue," Sherri replied as she stopped and took a long drag of her cigarette. From where they stood in the parking lot, they could hear Mr. Boltzmann yelling at Vivian, and Sherri just sighed and continued walking. Poster-Boy had gone into the market after they had left, so he was probably harassing her, too. She turned her attention back towards her friend. "So, what do you want to do now?"

"Hmm… Well, there is _something _I want to do," Anastasia replied with a smirk.

"What's that?" Sherri asked as she took another puff of her cigarette. Anastasia took the cancer-stick from Sherri, took a puff of it, blew it out, dropped it, stomped it out, and _then _leaned in and kissed Sherri.

At first, Sherri was a little shocked, but she soon gathered her thoughts and was able to kiss Anastasia back. Before she knew it, her friend's arms were around her waist and she was up on her tiptoes with her arms around Anastasia's neck.

Sherri was the first to break away in serious need of oxygen. For the first time in a long time, a slight blush graced her ashen cheeks. Anastasia was also blushing. "I…I'm sorry," she apologized; not meeting Sherri's piercing eyes.

"It's perfectly fine, as long as you don't ever fucking stop doing it," Sherri replied, reaching up and kissing Anastasia again. She could feel her friend—now her girlfriend—smile into the kiss.

Again, Sherri was the first to break away. She smiled at Anastasia who, in turn, smiled back. "Well, what now?" Anastasia murmured, as she took Sherri's right hand in her left.

Sherri put oh an evil grin and squeezed Anastasia's hand. "Tonight, my dear, we celebrate my liberation." She laughed and Anastasia joined in. "C'mon, you can come back to my apartment with me," she added.

They walked away, hand-in-hand, until they were at Sherri's apartment. Sherri, for the first time in a long time, was actually blissfully happy.

~X~

Before they left the apartment, Sherri made a phone call to Vivian. "Hey, Powderpuff, want to come help celebrate my liberation with Anastasia and myself?" She listened to Vivian's answer. "C'mon, Powderpuff, you could use some fun! No, don't hang up. No! Ah, fuck it. Bye."

She turned to her girlfriend of recent hours. "Well, Powderpuff's a no-go."

"It's alright. We'll have fun without her," Anastasia purred, kissing Sherri's neck.

"Yeah, you're right. We should go to the Bikini Martini!" She took out an impossibly orange bottle of Fusion Fuel energy drink and took some pills she'd purchased earlier out of the trench coat's pocket. She popped them in her mouth and downed them with sugary beverage, and then she kissed Anastasia deeply.

~X~

By the time they got to the Bikini Martini, Sherri was completely wasted and Anastasia was pretty drunk, too, and she'd downed a few cans of Fusion Fuel. Anastasia had to hold Sherri up most of the time, although she wasn't complaining. The shorter girl reached up and gave her a sloppy kiss on the cheek. This caused them both to break out in hysterical laughter.

Suddenly, Vivian's twin brother was waddling up to them to talk to Sherri. "Hey, Scary Sherri," Bobby greeted. "You look more like a corpse tonight than usual." Anastasia blinked in confusion. Was that supposed to be a compliment? Sherri leaned heavily against her and glared at Bobby.

"Pissh off, Gray. I'm shcelebrating," Sherri hissed in a drunken slur. "If you like your teshticles where they are, I suggesht you step out from between me andza booze." She took out another pill and washed it down with the little alcohol left in her current drink. Anastasia followed Sherri's example and glared at him.

"Look, this is going to sound strange, but I promise my intentions are pure. There's fifty bucks in it for you if you'll just sit in the sub with me for five minutes. No sex." Bobby was looking at her hopefully.

Anastasia growled and Sherri rolled her eyes skyward and tapped on her lip. "Hmm…innsheresting offer, but I think I'm going to go with '_Fuck you!_'" She and her girlfriend continued to stomp at an unsteady pace towards the bar.

"Fair enough, fair enough," Bobby replied, stepping in their way. "But what if I told you that this simple task would not only earn you fifty bucks, but would also completely humiliate that smarmy _Swingers-_lookin' asshole at the bar?"

Sherri glanced over Bobby's shoulder and then looked back at Anastasia.

"You can come, too," Bobby smirked.

"Cheshire cat with sideburns?" Sherri asked Bobby.

"That's the guy."

Sherri blinked and took a long, hard swig of her forty-ounce. She then set her glass down, grabbed Anastasia's and Bobby's hands in hers and led them over to the _Sawfish _submarine. Anastasia looked back over her shoulder to see the 'smarmy asshole's' jaw drop open. She smirked and let herself be dragged into the sub by Sherri.

Inside the sub, a string of Christmas lights illuminated the area. Sherri lifted her knees onto the wooden bench seat and pressed her back against the watertight hatch. Anastasia sat beside her and wrapped her arm around Sherri's shoulder. Bobby sat on the opposite end of the bench and looked at the couple.

Sherri popped another two pills.

"What's the matter? Got a headache?" Bobby asked.

"I don't _get _headaches," Sherri snapped. "I _give _headaches. Ish Special K. I scored it offa shum guy over at the Gator Club."

"I tried to talk her out of it, but she's so stubborn," Anastasia said affectionately. She kissed Sherri on the crown of her head. Bobby was surprised that Sherri allowed it. He was even more surprised when she smiled and leaned into the girl. Bobby then looked to the pills Sherri was popping. He took one in his hand and pointed out how they weren't Special K pills, but estrogen pills for old women.

"Bullschhit!" Sherri hissed. When he pointed out the name, she groaned and leaned more into Anastasia. "Aw, fuck _me_. That asshole told me it was hard-ass street talk! 'Me no play.' You know, like its hardcore shit that doesn't fuck around." She groaned again and turned towards Anastasia, burying her face in her girlfriend's shoulder.

_"Me no play?!" _Bobby laughed. "Who's your dealer? Tickle Me Elmo?"

"Menopause pills!" Sherri raged. "If you tell _anyone _about this, I swear to God you will be dead in a—"

"Hot flash?" Bobby finished with a smirk.

Before Anastasia could intervene and keep Bobby from being hit, the door to the sub swung open. Sherri had been leaning against the door, so when it opened suddenly, she tumbled out and onto the boardwalk. Anastasia went after her and helped her up gently. The frat boys who'd just arrived began their cat calls at them, causing the spitfire that was Sherri to take off her trenchcoat and snarl while curling her bony fingers into fists.

"Alright! None of you fuckers are leaving this room alive!" she threatened.

Anastasia and Sherri didn't pay attention to the 'smarmy ass' and Bobby arguing. Before Anastasia could calm Sherri down, the Bikini Martini exploded into a flash of bright white light. She tried to grab Sherri and pull her back, but she stumbled, falling onto the floor of the sub.

Blinded by the light, Sherri staggered backwards and flailed her sizzling arms. Her wrist struck the hatch door on the sub and she tumbled inside with Bobby, Trent (the smarmy ass), and Anastasia. The small weight of her body slammed the hatch shut.


	3. Chapter 3

Anastasia blinked open her eyes, aware that there was some minor weight on top of her. From the soft, raspy breathing, she knew it was Sherri. "What the 'ell—?" she whispered as she felt weight being pressed down against her arm. "Bobby, you fat ass. Get off of me!" She heard a grunt and the pressure on her arm was relieved, and she could feel the tingling sensation of the blood rushing back to it, although Sherri was still not moving.

She could hear Bobby and the smarmy asshole arguing about something that involved "swinging THAT way." She rolled her eyes in the dark and sighed. She gasped as Sherri stirred and pressed her bony little elbow into her chest. A pain filled shriek and a variety of obscenities filled the cabin.

"Agh! Fuck! Fuck! Jesus H. Fuck! Fuckerall Fuckington McFuckerberry!"

Trent and Bobby scooted closer to the walls as Sherri's fury wound down to a sobbing conclusion. In the dark, they heard a soft, murmuring voice that didn't belong to Sherri.

Anastasia was cooing, "Hush, it's alright. You're okay now." Sherri continued to sob, and then she turned towards the sound of Bobby and Trent.

"Jesus Harold Christ, what did you just do? Burn me with a fucking cigar?" she whimpered. "Try that again when I'm not asleep and see how funny it is when I shove that shit up your ass, motherfucker!" Sherri growled. Anastasia continued cooing to her.

Trent was in the middle of a smartass apology when Sherri burst out, "Wait, wait, where am I? Who the fuck is that?" She was talking to Anastasia.

"It's just little ol' me, Terence Trent DeLaRosa. We're in the submarine of love," the smarmy asshole greeted. There was a tense silence. It was broken by Anastasia yelling at Trent.

"Hey, back off duck fucker! I'll rip your damn cock off and shove it so far up your asshole that you'll taste it!" she growled. In the dark, Sherri turned towards her girlfriend's voice.

"Damn, Anaya," she whispered. Then, a vision clicked in Sherri's mind. "Holy shit. You and me didn't—" She was addressing Trent now.

"Don't worry, you didn't," Bobby soothed.

"What the…Bobby Gray, are you in here, too?"

"Yeah, hi, Sherri."

"Shit, you and me didn't—"

"No, no. Relax. You didn't do it with anybody. Although, I'm not sure about you and 'Anaya.'" Bobby smirked in the dark.

Anastasia was sure she blushed so badly the others could HEAR the color rushing to her cheeks. A long moment passed before Sherri spoke again. "So, did the two of you—"

"NO!" Bobby and Trent barked in unison.

Sherri blinked her oversized eyes. "Holy shit, I'm fucking blind!" She waved her hand in front of her face wildly. "How much did I drink last night?!"

"Calm down, Sherri. It's just dark in here. I can't see either," Anastasia whispered to her panicked girlfriend. She felt Sherri lean against her, then wince away.

Trent was going on about how 'if the sub is a'rockin', don't come a'knockin'.' And Anastasia knew Sherri was glaring daggers at him.

"Okay, so my memory's a little cloudy," Sherri admitted, "but the last thing I knew, I was shitfaced on Schlitz, and now I wake up and I have the mother of all hangovers. You do the math, Pythagoras."

Trent and Bobby were arguing again, but Anastasia's main concern was Sherri. "Are you alright?" she whispered.

"I'll be fine," Sherri whispered back gently, searching around in the darkness for her girl's hand. When Bobby opened the hatch door and stepped out, the cabin was flooded with light. Anastasia's eyes grew wide and she hissed as she shielded her eyes. "What is it, Anaya?"

"Hang on, Sherri. Wait here."

"Like I have a choice…" she mumbled as she felt Anastasia step around her and out of the sub. When she tried to step over the small step on the hatch, she tripped and tumbled out. Trent caught her, but Anastasia shoved him away.

"I'm taken…" she growled.

"I'm just lookin' out for my ladies, yo. For real!" Trent replied, giving her a wide, toothy grin.

"I'm not _your_ lady. I'm _that woman's _lady," Anastasia replied viciously. Trent turned back towards Bobby, who was not listening. He was staring over his shoulder at the person getting out of the sub.

"Right? Hey, B-Dawg. What are you looking at over oh _daaaaaaamn!_"

Anastasia spun around to see Sherri clinging limply to the side of the sub's hatch, looking like she was ready for the grave…or had just returned from it. Whereas the submarine had shielded Bobby, Trent, and Anastasia from the flash, Sherri's pale, unprotected skin had taken it full-on.

Sherri's once-blood red t-shirt and burgundy skirt were now flaccid shades of pink. The flash had bleached her black hair into a wispy mass of white. Her once ashen skin had been scorched into a crispy palette of reds and purples.

"I…I didn't think it was possible," Bobby stammered, "but your eyes are more horrible now than they were before!"

Anastasia silenced him with a glare that could cut through steel and turned back to her girlfriend. She rushed over to her side and wrapped her arms around Sherri's tiny waist, trying to help her stand steady. Sherri leaned into Anastasia's embrace and turned towards the sound of Bobby's voice. Her ghostly blue eyes had vanished, replaced with two bloodstained spheres of a deep, visceral red. Her pupils were lost in a sea of ruptured capillaries, giving her the unfocused gaze of something not of the Earth. Long, sanguineous tear stains ran down her cheeks.

"Is it nighttime…?" she whispered, turning back towards Anastasia.

"No," answered Trent. "You were right, it is morning."

Sherri blinked slowly, staring into blank infinity.

"Shit! I _told _you I was fucking blind!" She let out a single dry sob and slowly sunk to the ground and placed her charred body against the doorframe. "_Sssssst! _Owww!" she winced. Anastasia followed her down and looked at her girlfriend with a worried expression written on her face. She leaned closer to her and kissed her tear trail-stained cheek.

"I'm sorry…" she whispered.

"It's not your fault," Sherri turned her blind eyes towards Anastasia and smiled gently. Again she winced from the pain of her charred body. "Jesus, somebody get me a drink and explain what the fuck just happened to me."

The boys looked on with shock, not knowing how to respond. Anastasia just placed her sunburned hand over Sherri's absolutely charred one.

"Judgment Day happened," Trent said dramatically. He followed it with a quote from the Bible.

"Okay, _you _shut up. You're useless," Sherri said. "Bobby, get me a drink and tell me what's happening," she ordered.

"I don't really know," Bobby admitted. "But I'm placing my money on Y2K."

"My options are a wrathful God or Y2K?! That's the best you've got?" Sherri spat, struggling against Anastasia's hold. Anastasia whispered something in Sherri's ear to try and calm her down, but it didn't work. "Considering that it's the middle of August and God is a fictional character meant to scare you out of casual sex, I'd say you've both been spoon fed paranoid bullshit so long you can't even form your own thoughts anymore!"

Bobby and Trent began to argue _again_. Anastasia snickered and whispered in Sherri's ear, "They fight like an old married couple." Sherri snickered too and nodded slightly in agreement. She turned her burnt head and blood red eyes towards Anastasia, but winced and turned back quickly.

"I'm sorry, Anaya…" Sherri whispered.

"It's not your fault," Anastasia whispered back as she kissed Sherri's cheek again. Sherri inhaled deeply and gazed into blackness in the general direction of the boy's voices.

"Okay, seriously now," Sherri said, "who do I have to fuck to get some booze around here?"

Anastasia again whispered in her ear, "Well, I can't get you any booze, but you're free to fuck me." She smirked a bit, and then turned back towards Trent, who was walking towards them. He sat on the other side of Sherri.

"Chill, baby. That's what we're trying to tell you. There is no booze. There's no _anything_," he said softly.

Anastasia stared at him blankly, and let a snarl grace her lips. "Hey, buddy, would you lay off on trying to get in my girlfriend's pants?!" Sherri leaned somewhat against Anastasia and smiled a bit.

"We don't know what happened," Bobby said, "and we've got no way to find out."

Sherri blinked and turned her head towards the sound of his voice and blinked.

"When this shit goes down, the mass media and their corporate sponsors are never far behind to market their fear-mongering onto the public. Why don't you just turn on the TV and see what the talking head on the news says?"

"That's what we're trying to tell you, girl! There is no news! There's no TV!" Trent repeated.

Anastasia had had enough. "HEY! Stop yelling at her! She's right! Now, I suggest you shut the hell up before I rip you a new asshole!"

Sherri never moved her blind sight away from Bobby. "There's always TV," she said coolly. "This is America."

Bobby shrugged. "She does have a point. So the TV is gone. We've got to be able to find a radio or _something _around here. We live in the golden age of telecommunication. There's no way we're completely out of touch with the rest of the world."

Sherri finally moved her blinded gaze back towards Anastasia. "I love you…" she whispered lowly, as so no one else could hear it.


	4. Chapter 4

Bobby and Trent were looking around the non-existent Bikini Martini for a working car radio. Blind and unable to help, Sherri sat limply on the singed back seat of a nearby station wagon. The side of the vehicle was marked with soapy letters reading "Alpha Beta Gamma Summer Break '99: Fort Lauderdale or Bust!"

Anastasia sat beside her girlfriend, stroking her bleached white hair. Sherri sighed. "Alright, give it to me straight, Anaya. How do I look?"

Anastasia racked her brain for a semi-sweet answer, but found none. "Sorry, Sher, but you look like living hell."

"Do you think it'll keep Trent from trying to fuck me?" Sherri asked hopefully. Anastasia was silent for a moment, considering the possibility.

"Maybe…"

Sherri raised her crispy arms up in a mock cheer. "Well, that's one good thing about being blind and ugly."

"Sherri, you're not ugly. You're still beautiful. You have been since we met. And you will be until the day we die," Anastasia whispered, kissing her girlfriend's cheek.

"However soon that may be…" Sherri retorted dryly. Anastasia gently turned Sherri towards her, and then leaned in to kiss her. At the last second, Sherri pulled away. "You don't need to be kissing something like me." Even though Sherri was blind, she saw the kiss about to happen. Anastasia frowned and quickly leaned in and stole a tiny kiss from Sherri's lips. "Aw, fuck _me_!" Sherri groaned.

"Gladly," Anastasia teased with a smirk as she stole another kiss from Sherri. Sherri smiled and if her cheeks hadn't been severely sun burnt, Anastasia might have seen the blush that Sherri could feel creeping to her cheeks. With a small wince, she managed to wrap her arms around Anastasia and hug her weakly.

Anastasia put her lips right up to Sherri's ear and whispered huskily, "I love you, too." Sherri's smiled faded a bit as a small spike of pain drove into her brain. She turned and rested her head on the edge of the doorframe, and her blood-red eyes stared emotionlessly into the middle distance. Her central nervous system had saturated itself with pain-relieving endorphins, downgrading her agony to a subdued throbbing. She wrapped her arms around her bony chest and shivered.

"Man, it's colder than a witch's clit out here. If you can't give me any liquor, could you at least give me my coat?" Her voice was raised so Trent and Bobby would hear her. Anastasia placed her hand on Sherri's burnt knee.

"You know, you could cuddle up to me," Anastasia remarked.

"Now you're sounding like Trent," Sherri joked with a small smile.

Bobby's voice suddenly sounded from outside the station wagon. "Doubtful. Judging by what ended up landing _here_, I'd say your coat is probably in Port Manatee by now."

Sherri heard some rustling and Trent's conceited voice say, "_Au contraire_. I think you may be in luck, my little chilly filly."

At this, Anastasia stiffened enough for Sherri to notice. "Calm down, Anaya. Like he's ever got a chance with me," she mumbled, sitting up beside her girlfriend and placing her burnt hand on what she hoped was Anastasia's lower thigh. "I'm sorry…"

"I should say so, Handsy. At least take me out on a date first!" Anastasia joked in reference to where Sherri had _really _put her hand. Sherri made an attempt to jerk her hand away in shame, but Anastasia held it gently in place. "I like it there," she smirked to a blind Sherri.

"Strike that," Trent corrected himself. "This thing got the beat down, for real."

"Wait, did you find it?" Sherri asked hopefully.

"Yeah, but you can't wear it, it's all—"

"Gimme it."

Anastasia saw Trent shrug right before he handed the remains of the coat to Sherri. The blind girl searched the trench coats pocket and found her skull-capped whiskey flask. A quick examination with her fingertips revealed a jagged hole and a dry interior.

"Shit. There really _is _no booze left." She threw the flask and heard it clatter away somewhere in her personal darkness. Anastasia rubbed Sherri's charcoaled hand gently.

Outside the station wagon, Bobby suddenly hissed, "Shhh! Did you guys hear that?"

"What? The flask?" Trent asked, obviously confused.

"No, no. Something else. I think there's somebody there!"

Sherri, Trent, and Anastasia stopped breathing and listened carefully. There was no other sound at all. Then suddenly, there was! A _clank _of tumbling debris, followed by an odd crackling noise.

"Hey! Is somebody there?" Bobby yelled. "Heeeey! Hey! Over here!"

"We've got an injured girl over here!" Trent added. "Let's get some help on, yo! Send a doctor!"

"Fuck the doctor! Send Jim Beam!" Sherri shouted. Anastasia chuckled and trailed her fingertips down her girlfriend's red and purple skin. This action caused Sherri to shiver a bit. "Don't get me turned on, Anaya. I'm in no condition for sex. No matter how much it pains me to say it," she teased with a dramatic sob. Anastasia smiled a smile her blind girlfriend couldn't see.

Sherri and Anastasia heard debris tumbling down somewhere outside followed by Bobby's and Trent's voices. Apparently, from the gist of the conversation, Trent had found a sword and did some cheap imitation from _Excalibur_.

"You're just jealous," Trent laughed. "You know the king always bags the fairest maiden in the land."

"Oh, please, God," Sherri moaned. "Don't let him be talking about me!" She slid her shoulder off the doorframe and fell on her back across the seat, her boots sprawling out onto the pavement. The second she landed, a tongue of pain licked down her back.

"Ah! Ouch!" she hissed.

"Shit, Sherri! Are you alright?!" Anastasia asked, trying to help her girlfriend up and failing. The sting of her burns slipped Sherri's mind as her head rolled into a cold puddle on the seat. A puddle with a stale yet recognizable odor. She sat up and patted the puddle with her fingers, trying to scout out its edges and origins.

Anastasia shook her head in an affectionate way, because she knew all too well what Sherri had found.

~X~

Outside, Bobby was still trying to find a working radio. He heard the crackling noise again. Closer. He glanced out the shattered windshield and saw an Army Surplus backpack fly out of the station wagon. It was followed by seven dirty socks, four rolls of toilet paper, and three issues of _Hustler_.

Sherri's ransacking of the frat boys' car did not produce any crackling. Bobby hopped out of the Civic he had been sitting in and met Trent next to the valet box. He tried to get Trent to hear the crackling noise. A pure, thick silence was clouded by a pink fog that smelled like rotten cabbage and red tide.

"_BBBBBRRAAAAAAAAAWWWWWP!_"

Bobby leapt in the air like a startled housecat.

"Waaaaah! What the hell was that?!"

"Pardon me," Sherri said dryly. Anastasia could be heard cracking up from beside Sherri, who was sitting on a large box in front of the station wagon, chugging a can of beer and wearing the remains of her shredded coat as if in protest of the whole situation.

"Whoa!" Bobby said. "What is that?"

Anastasia stopped laughing at looked up at the boys with a smile that could light up a room. There was a certain twinkle in her eyes. Bobby was suddenly wondering if something had happened in the Frat-Mobile.

"Its beer, lame-ass," Sherri said triumphantly to Bobby. She jabbed a thumb towards the burnt station wagon. "There was a whole cooler full of it in the way-back. I told you there was booze—you guys are just too brainwashed by the rules of society to think outside of your narrow—"

"No, shut up," Bobby said. "I meant, what is the thing you're sitting on?"

Anastasia felt anger well within her, but she quickly swallowed it. Sherri was a big girl; she could fight her own battles… But, that didn't mean Anastasia couldn't help her. But for now, Anastasia decided to keep her mouth shut.

Sherri looked down and blinked her red, oversized eyes slowly.

"How the hell should I know? I'm fucking blind, remember?"

Bobby shuffled over and shooed Sherri from her perch. She grumbled and reached out for her girlfriend's hand, which Anastasia took eagerly.

Bobby picked up the box and read it.

"Hibakusha Electronics 5-in-1 Camping Lantern. Where did this come from?"


	5. Chapter 5

Bobby and Trent were now messing with the lantern Sherri had found, and the satellite dish that had been in the dumpster at the back of where the Bikini Martini used to be. Sherri was lounging across the backseat of the Frat-Mobile with Anastasia. She was also nursing her third beer.

"Goddamn it! _Zoobles _again!" Bobby barked.

Sherri leaned closer to Anastasia seeking comfort and warmth, because in truth, the fact that she was blind terrified her. She'd relied on sight all of her life. Anastasia seemed to understand, and she wrapped one of her arms gingerly around the fragile girl's shoulders. Sherri then laid her head on Anastasia's chest and inhaled deeply. Wow, everything smelled like the damn pink fog. But still, having her girlfriend so close brought some comfort to her, and she closed her ruined eyes.

Anastasia smirked when she heard Trent whisper to Bobby, "What is going on with those ladies, B-Dawg?"

Bobby must've turned and slapped him or something because the next that followed was an "Ouch!"

"What do you think, dumbass?" Bobby growled before turning back to the lantern. Anastasia felt Sherri smile and chuckle softly. Again, she ran her fingers through her girlfriend's newly-white hair.

The man from Zoobles was chattering on in an incredibly annoying voice and suddenly Bobby hissed, "Turn that off!"

"For real," Trent agreed. "This guy is as irritating as underwear with a zipper."

"No, no! Listen!" Bobby said. "I hear it again! The crackling! Listen!"

"Ah shit, not this again," Sherri muttered against Anastasia's chest.

Trent turned down the volume on the lantern. Somewhere in the distance a piece of metal banged against another. Then silence.

"Hello out there!" Bobby yelled. "Hey! Is anybody out there? Sunny!"

His words echoed off of the buildings and evaporated into quiet.

"Give it up," Sherri said, curling up against Anastasia. "There's nobody coming for us except the reaper."

"Stop it! I'm serious!" Bobby snapped. "There's something out there!" He stood up and yelled into the thick, pink fog. "Hey! I know you're out there! I can hear you! Say something!" His words decayed and died in the air. He cupped his hand to his ear and concentrated, but there was nothing. He drew a breath to say as much, but was interrupted by a tiny voice.

"Bobby? Oh my God—Bobby!"

Bobby blinked in surprise, then whirled around and ran into the fog. He barely recognized the voice, as he wasn't accustomed to it sounding happy to see him. "Holy shit! Vivian?!" he yelped.

They went through the whole introduction and happy phase, and it turns out there was another boy to the party named Erik, while Sherri continued to sit in silence with Anastasia until she heard Trent say, "Thank the good Lord. I was beginning to think that the last women on Earth were two angry little Goth girls!"

"Hey!" Sherri snapped. "When you label us you negate us, you preppie fuckwad!"

"Sherri?" Vivian gasped. "Oh my God, Sherri, is that you?" She ran to the side of the station wagon, leaned down and poked her head through the back door. She gasped when she laid eyes on Sherri's sun burnt flesh.

"Go ahead and stare," Sherri shrugged. "Doesn't bother me. I'm fuckin' blind." Anastasia turned and kissed her girlfriend's cheek. Then, she turned her green-eyed gaze back to Vivian.

"Hello, Vivian," she greeted. Vivian's eyes flashed to her and gave her a small smile. Then her eyes turned back to Sherri.

"Oh, Sherri. I…I'm so sorry," she stammered. "I mean, you…your skin is all…"

"Yeah, the sun's a bitch. Lucky I was wearing SPF 90."

Vivian bit her lip and pulled her head from the doorway, coming face-to-face with the camping lantern on the roof.

"What is that thing?" the boy named Erik asked.

Anastasia sighed. All this didn't matter. There were other survivors and she was happy. Although, she didn't need to listen to the explanation of the lantern she'd heard twice from Bobby. She turned to Sherri and kissed her forehead.

Her blinded gaze shifted to where Anastasia was sitting and she smiled softly, but she turned back and piped up, "So, do you guys know what the hell happened last night?"

"We got our asses kicked by a hurricane," Erik said.

"Okay, so we've got Y2K in August, wrath of an angry God, or a hurricane that made an unannounced, one-night-only appearance," Sherri muttered. "For fuck's sake, you people couldn't identify your own asses if somebody didn't give you a hint."

"I agree with Sherri. Not about the ass part, but still, she does have a point," Anastasia said. She poked her head out the door of the station wagon to see all eyes turned to her. Her black hair fell into both of her eyes. "What? I do…"

"It wasn't any of those things," Vivian said. "I think… I think…"

"Oh, just spill it, Powderpuff," Sherri snapped. "What do you think it was?"

Anastasia slung her hair back and uncovered her eyes to look at Vivian, giving her a small, encouraging smile.

"I think it was a nuclear bomb."

The group fell silent for a long moment. Everyone who was able looked at everyone else, trying to discern some sense of whether Vivian was serious and, if so, whether she was right. Sherri scooted closer to Anastasia and ran her fingers down the black corset she was wearing. Bobby finally broke the tension with a fit of derisive laughter.

"Oh, come on, live in the now, Viv! This is 1999! The Cold War is over. We won. There are no nukes anymore."

"Be serious!" Vivian snapped. "All of the signs point to a nuclear explosion."

Trent pointed out that somebody wouldn't waste their 'big badda-boom' on a 'Podunk whistle-stop' like Stillwater.

"They didn't bomb Stillwater," Vivian snapped again. "They bombed Songbird Key."

Sherri shook her head and sighed. "Ohhh, of course," she said sarcastically. "Everyone knows that commies hate condos." Anastasia, despite herself, giggled.

Vivian rubbed her eyes. "Oh, I can't explain the _whys_. But if you apply Occam's Razor, the only reasonable _how _is a nuclear detonation." Then she went on to explain what Occam's Razor was.

"If I had Occam's Razor, I'd apply it to my throat," Sherri said wistfully. Anastasia whirled around to face Sherri.

"Hey, I love you. Don't talk like that. It wigs me out."

"I'm sorry, Anaya," Sherri said sincerely. They leaned in at the same time and kissed each other. Sherri closed her eyes and pressed her lips harder into Anastasia's. Her charred arms found their way around her girl's neck, and she felt Anastasia gingerly place her hands on her hips.

"Sorry to interrupt, but just look at the facts," Vivian continued. "Songbird Key is gone."

"What do you mean 'gone'?" Bobby snuffed, not looking at the two girls in the station wagon making out. "Everything I've seen all day is gone." Trent, however, was having a hard time tearing his gaze away, and he turned slightly more towards the station wagon to hide his blossoming erection.

Anastasia broke away from Sherri, only to have the other girl continue kissing down her neck. "Sherri, sweetie, they can see us…" she pointed out with a low moan.

"I don't care. I can't see them…" Sherri replied as she began sucking on Anastasia's pulse point.

"Oh, God… Sherri, they…may need us…" Anastasia panted. Sherri just kissed her way back up Anastasia's neck. "Mm…Sherri…" She had closed her green eyes by this point. Everyone else seemed to be talking amongst themselves, barely paying attention to them. That is…until Vivian cleared her throat.

Sherri broke away from Anastasia and growled a bit. "So, what now?" she asked.

"We've got to get out of here," Vivian said. "This place has got to be buzzing with radiation right now. We need to get as far away from ground zero as possible, ASAP."

Bobby protested saying how they needed to search for survivors. Vivian seemed to understand and she tried her best to comfort him. But still, she had to get her point across. "Nobody is leaving this town but us." She patted her brother on the back. "There's nothing we can do here. We've got to go."

"But how?" Trent asked, tearing his eyes unwillingly away from Sherri and Anastasia. "We told you, girl. None of these cars work. What are we supposed to do?"

"Well, the way I see it, we have two choices," Vivian replied. She kicked off her broken shoes and pulled a pair of a deceased frat boy's tube socks onto her blistering feet. "We walk, or we die."

"Who said we can't be both?" Erik whimpered.

They all finally came to an agreement.

Anastasia helped Sherri out of the station wagon, and took her hand in hers. "Are you going to be able to walk, Sher?" she asked with concern lacing her voice.

Sherri nodded and kept her blind eyes looking straight ahead. "Plus, if I get tired, you can always carry me." A smirk graced her face and Anastasia only chuckled. Suddenly, Sherri stumbled over a piece of debris and pitched forward. Anastasia launched forward and caught her before she could hit the ground. "Thanks, Anaya. Maybe the thought of you carrying me wasn't such a bad idea after all…"

Anastasia smiled and helped Sherri stand upright. "Just ask, sweetie." Anastasia picked Sherri up bridal style. She wasn't surprised that Sherri barely weighed anything. "Damn, Sherri. You're super tiny," Anastasia remarked as Sherri's arms slipped around her neck, holding on.

Vivian eyed them with a smile as she began stuffing rolls of toilet paper into the Army Surplus backpack.

"What's up with that?" Trent asked. "Are you going to get revenge on your math teacher on the way out of town?"

"I don't know how long it'll be before we find safety," Vivian said. "I for one, don't want to be without this when we need it."

"Good thinking, Vivi," he grinned, picking up the chain of condoms. "And in the spirit of preparedness…"

Vivian threw her purse into the bag and closed it tightly, ignoring Trent. She slung it over her shoulder and looked over to where Erik and Bobby were carrying the satellite dish. She gave him a curt nod.

"Alright, ramblers," Bobby said. "Let's get ramblin'."

With that, the tiny caravan of unlikely survivors left the ruins of the Bikini Martini and set off down the long and lonely road out of Stillwater.

Five minutes later, another set of feet quietly crackled through the abandoned street.


	6. Chapter 6

The six survivors trudged down the road in an exhausted caravan. It had been hours since they had left Stillwater's city limits, yet the noxious pink vapor still covered the earth in ethereal sheets.

Trent was at the head of the group, carrying his sword with masculine authority. Vivian was struggling to walk in her broken shoes. Suddenly, Trent flung the tip of the sword into an alley and demanded, "Who goes there?" He glanced at Vivian, Sherri, and Anastasia out of the corner of his eye. None of them were paying the slightest bit of attention to him. "Yeah, you best not be there. Don't be messin' with my ladies unless you're looking for a beat-down from Big T. I protect my girls 24/7, yo." With that, he continued to prance ahead and keep his protective posturing.

Sherri was walking between Vivian and Anastasia, who were both keeping a close eye trained on her. Her bleached white hair and the remains of her trench coat fluttered in the breeze behind her, making her look like a shipwrecked ghost. Her damaged nerve endings had surrendered, leaving her charred flesh bathed in a pleasant numbness. She reached out with one hand towards Anastasia, who once again, took it eagerly. Sherri smiled softly, and turned towards Vivian. "Hey, Powderpuff, do you hear that?" she whispered.

"Yeah, don't worry," Vivian replied. "It's just that guy Trent acting like a freak."

"No, not that. Believe me; I've heard enough of that to be able to identify it. It's like this weird crackling."

Vivian listened. All she could hear were six sets of feet crunching on wrecked pavement. "I don't hear it," she shrugged. "I'm sure it's nothing to be concerned about."

Anastasia squeezed Sherri's hand lightly and got a squeeze back. Her sunburn hadn't been that bad, but this pink fog was starting to get to her. Sherri unconsciously moved towards her girlfriend, seeming to sense that something was wrong.

"What is it, Anaya?" she asked with real concern.

"Nothing, don't worry," came the brisk reply.

Behind the girls, Erik and Bobby were struggling with the satellite dish. Their hands were hooked under the lip of the parabola. Bobby was in the rear, and Erik was in the front. Bobby was trying to make Erik go faster, but after his morning of torture, it just wasn't in him. He'd been clawed up by a sewer mutant and hit in the head by the sewer ceiling. They were arguing about carrying the satellite. Erik opposing the notion.

Sherri was listening to close to Anastasia's breathing, which was a little abnormal. "Anaya, something's wrong…"

"What is it, Sher? Are you alright?"

"No, I'm blind. But, I'm talking about you," she whispered.

"Nothing is wrong, Sherri. Calm down." Anastasia gave her girlfriend's hand another reassuring squeeze. Sherri sighed and kept walking, not listening to Erik and Bobby or Trent and Vivian.

They were coming up to a nasty looking fountain, and Vivian suggested they rest so the skin on the soles of her feet could grow back.

"Hey, Vivi, those pretty little shoes aren't really appropriate for walking this kind of long haul," Trent pointed out.

Vivian glared at him with an expression that said, "No shit, Sherlock."

Trent suggested that she let him give her a piggyback ride, seeing as how it was 'his duty' as a 'good Christian'.

Anastasia chuckled a bit, and led Sherri over to where Vivian was sitting on the edge of the fountain. "You're better off walking barefoot than letting him carry you. I've seen guys like him before. First sign of trouble and you'd be flat on your ass," Anastasia pointed out. She reached out and put her free hand on Vivian's shoulder as an act of comfort.

"Thanks, Anaya," Vivian said with a little smile.

Sherri plopped down on the edge of the fountain and hung her head between her bony knees. "Man, I'm still hung over as shit," she groaned. "I didn't drink enough last night to still be feeling this bitch."

"I hear that," Bobby agreed. "Usually I can just sleep it off, but my guts are all a-tingly today. The puke has been burning up and down the pipe all day like a barf barometer."

"Me, too," Erik said. "I wasn't even drinking last night and I _still _feel like I'm gonna hurl. It's like the air is just _crawling _inside my _stomach_."

"Yeah, I know the feeling," Anastasia said. "I didn't drink as much as Sherri, but I'm getting my fair-share of Ick." She sat down beside Sherri and rubbed her back in soothing circles.

"Okay, I don't know what y'all are talking about," Trent countered. "I drank responsibly, and I feel right as rain. Nothing is sexier than somebody who knows when to say when, right Vivi?"

Vivian didn't respond. She just stared out into space, caught up in her own thoughts. Anastasia looked over at her with worry in her green eyes as she continued to rub Sherri's back, feeling her trembling slightly.

"Vivi?" Trent repeated. "You okay, sweetness? You look like you're about to give greetings and salutations to your old friend Ralph." Vivian clutched her abdomen.

"No, no, I'm okay. I feel fine," she lied. "I just have to um…go to the bathroom or something."

Trent offered to escort her to somewhere more "private".

"Ha!" Sherri laughed. "Or with the bullshit filter on, 'The thought of peeping on you squatting with your panties around your ankles gives me a hard-on.'"

"I think I can keep an eye on myself," Vivian said. "Could somebody else please keep an eye on Trent?"

"Oh, that's cold," Trent murmured. "A guy tried to look out for a lady, and look what happens. That's just cold."

"I got you covered, Vivian," Anastasia snickered as Vivian limped around the back of the nearest building. Once she was out of sight, Anastasia rounded on Trent. "I don't know what you're playing at here, but seriously, keep it in your pants," she growled. Trent's eyes widened and he turned and walked towards Bobby and Erik.

"Way to go, Anaya," Sherri purred. Anastasia put her arm around Sherri and leaned over to kiss her cheek.

~X~

"I found something!" Bobby called. He'd been playing with the lantern again and finally managed to get a picture on the screen. Everybody leaned in with casual interest, even Sherri.

It was a simple animation that was supposed to represent the evolution of Man. A soft voice spoke. "_Realize your potential. WOPR – Liberty Valley, Pennsylvania._"

"Hey, that's not the Zoo Crew! You found something else!" Trent exclaimed.

"Nah, it's the Zoobles all right," Bobby grumbled. "This is just a network identification bumper at the beginning of the show. I saw it this morning too." As soon as the words left his mouth, the promo dissolved into the theme of _Zobilee Zoo_. Bobby punched the "scan" button quickly, and watched the screen flash from channel to empty channel.

Erik asked if the only thing he could pick up was one station, and Bobby answered him with a "so far." Then he went on to explain how the tape of Zoobles must be stuck in a loop or something, because the same episode had been playing over and over again.

"That's it! Forget it. I'm not going to carry around this heavy-ass dish another inch just so that I can bask in the nightmarish glow of Ben Vereen in cake makeup."

Sherri shrugged. "When I was a kid I always thought that makeup was kinda hot. There's something sexy about a person with animal parts." Anastasia nodded her agreement, smirked and leaned closer towards Sherri.

"Okay, fine," Erik muttered. "From now on, let's let the furverts carry the dish."

"Hey!" Sherri snapped. "I am not a furvert just because I'd fuck Mayor Ben!"

Anastasia looked away quickly and felt a blush creep into her cheeks. She was jealous of a fictional character Sherri wanted to fuck? That was a new low. Sherri's blind eyes snapped towards her.

"Hey, you know I was just kidding," she cooed quietly, placing her hand on her girlfriend's thigh.

Anastasia put her hand over Sherri's. "I know," she whispered back softly.

"Perhaps not," Bobby said. "But the fact _does _open a whole new slate of potential psychological problems."

"Oh, fuck you and your satellite dish," Sherri grumbled. "What do I need TV for? I'm fucking blind."

Bobby started to argue about leaving the dish behind when Vivian ran out of the fog sporting a pair of ruby-red sneakers. "Good news, everybody," she said. "I just found out ride out of here!"


	7. Chapter 7

"This way! In here! Come on!" Vivian called, holding the camping lantern aloft through the garage-door-sized hole in the concrete tube. A ramp within stabbed upward into the heart of what had previously been the parking garage of the Banyan Terrace restaurant. The garage had buckled against its own framework, shearing the floors from their moorings and piling them in sedimentary layers. The remains of luxury cars lay smashed within the collapsed walls, forming narrow, shadowy cavities between their fenders like tunnels in an ant farm. The building groaned under its own unsteady weight, dusting the six survivors with powdered concrete as they marched up the ramp.

Erik shuffled up to Vivian's side and whispered, "Vivian, are you crazy?! I thought we were going to stay out of condemned buildings from now on! What are we doing here?!"

"We're going to get the Rabbit out of its burrow." She lifted the lantern, throwing the light over the nose of her rusted convertible. It was nearly buried in fallen architecture, but apparently unharmed.

"You've _got _to be kidding me," Bobby sighed.

"Vivian, this is totally unsafe. Let me introduce you all to a little rule made up by a motherfucker named Murphy. Anything that can happen will happen, and it will happen at the worst possible time. In other words, shit happens. So, let's not tempt karma here to kick our asses," Anastasia offered as she pulled Sherri closer to her as if in an act to protect her.

"Damn, Vivi," Trent said. "God may have given women all the sugar and spice, but he sure didn't give y'all any skillz when it comes to parking an automobile."

"_I _didn't park it," Vivian murmured. "I gave the valet my life savings for this exclusive VIP space."

The space where her car was parked wasn't a space at all. The floor had been marked with a series of tight, parallel lines and stenciled in letters reading "NO PARKING!"

The convertible was backed under the ramp to the next level of the garage. To each side of the vehicle stood a titanic pair of concrete pylons straining to hold the collapsed floors above. Their buckling weight had come to rest against the fenders of the Rabbit, barring access to its sides at all. The collapse had left only one access point to the Rabbit's interior: an eight-inch gap between the crumbling ceiling and the top of the windshield.

"What are we supposed to do with _that?!_" Erik said. "It's crushed! Let's get out of here before we are too!"

"It's not crushed; it's just trapped," Vivian said. "And it's the only car in the whole building that's still intact. All we need to do is pull it out of there."

"Uh uh. No way, Viv," Bobby said. "That car is probably the only thing holding up the roof." And even if we do get it out, it's not like we could start it."

"Come on, Bobby," Vivian pleaded. "The keys are right there in the ignition!"

Everyone protested and Anastasia joined in, "Vivian, I can see where you're coming from, but this is just too dangerous! We would be putting every one of us in danger!"

"So, that's it? We're not even going to try?" Vivian pleaded. "It's not even worth the _chance_?"

"The chance of _what_?" Sherri said. "Of getting out asses killed trying to save a car that barely ran _before _the apocalypse?"

Vivian pushed up her glasses and rubbed her eyes as a low crackled ripped from the overstrained walls. "Fine. You call all just leave. I'll pull that car out all by myself if I have to."

"Oh, come on, Vivian," Erik said. "Be reasonable."

Anastasia piped up, "Vivian, none of us want you getting hurt." She turned towards the boys. "If one of you takes Sherri out, I'll stay and help Vivian."

"No way, sweetheart. If you stay, I'm staying," Sherri countered.

"Thank you, Anaya. And I tried being reasonable," Vivian growled. "Reason says that the ceiling will collapse if we disturb the car. Reason says that the EMP destroyed the ignition. I'm not getting anywhere using reason."

"So, what are you going to do?" Bobby asked.

"I'm going to believe in myself," Vivian replied. "And I'm going to drive that car out of here." Her green eyes seemed to dull a bit, and Anastasia wondered if she was remembering something close to her heart.

"Vivi—" Anastasia began, but was interrupted as Vivian set down the lantern and sprung onto the hood of the Rabbit. She squeezed her arms and shoulders through the gap and came to a struggling stop, her body pinned between the windshield and the deteriorating ceiling above. She couldn't reach the keys from there, let alone the gas pedals. She clawed her feet into the hood of the car and tried to shove herself further as bits of gravel flaked off the ceiling and rolled down her back.

Bobby, Erik, and Anastasia exchanged worried glances. Sherri stared blindly into the sound of the scuffle. Trent just stared hungrily at Vivian's wiggling backside. Finally, he turned on the group and spoke with authority. "Gentlemen, gentlemen. What kind of pathetic creatures are we? For real, yo? Whilst we stand here all scaredy-catted up, that woman is risking her fine neck to score some wheels for us cowering and lowly wretches. Listen, dawgs: If the lady wants her car, we shall help the lady get her car. It is out duty as men to fulfill out women's every wish.

"I wish you'd decide if you're a poseur intellectual or a poseur gangsta," Sherri muttered.

"And turn off that constant flow of bullshit that spills out of your mouth," Anastasia added, putting her arm around Sherri's waist.

"We're not leaving without Vivian," Erik frowned. "And I guess Vivian's not leaving without her car."

"So by transitive axiom," Bobby sighed, "we're not leaving without Vivian's car."

"Now that's what I'm talkin' about!" Trent beamed. "Come on; let's give the lovely lady a hand." He leapt to the Rabbit's fender and ran his hand down Vivian's long calf. She kicked at him distractedly.

"What's the word in there, Vivi?" he asked. "You all good?"

"I'm stuck," Vivian replied. "The gap is too narrow. My chest won't fit through it."

"Here, let me help," Trent said, stepping forward. "If I hold down your girlie bits all Janet-Jackson-style, you'll be able to—" Bobby put a heavy hand on Trent's shoulder and shook his head scornfully. "Damn, homes, don't be like that," Trent grumbled. "I'm just trying to look out for the greater good here, yo."

"Maybe I can be of some assistance?" Anastasia offered kindly. She began to step forward when Vivian wrestled out of the gap, slid down the hood, and hopped down to the floor.

"I can't reach the ignition," she muttered. "I'm just too big."

"Aw, Vivi, don't be all down on yourself," Trent said. "You're not too big. You're the perfect size. Everyone knows a woman with a few curves is far sexier than one that's all skin and bones."

"Well, it's my 'curves' that are the problem," Vivian blushed, crossing her arms over her chest. "I could have fit in there if I was all skin and bones like…" She stopped before she had completed her thought, but nobody seemed to notice. Their heads all turned in unison to the same place.

"You're all staring at me, aren't you?" Sherri scowled. "Forget it. I can't drive stick."

"We're _not _putting her in danger, guys!" Anastasia snapped.

"You don't have to. All she has to do is see if it will start," Vivian said. "But Sherri is the only one here thinner than I am."

"Or alternately," Erik suggested, "we could take this as a sign that we should just give up and get the hell out of here right now."

Vivian turned her back to Erik and put her hand on Sherri's crispy shoulder. "Please, Sherri. You're our only hope." Sherri rolled her ruddy eyes.

"Alright, alright, I'll do it," she said. "Don't get all melodramatic about it." She turned to Anastasia and kissed her deeply, not caring if the others saw. "I'll be alright," she whispered as they broke apart.

"You'd better be…" Anastasia warned, leaning in to kiss Sherri quickly once more.

With a broad smile, Vivian helped Sherri onto the Rabbit's hood and up to the windshield. Sherri easily slid both arms through the tiny gap, grabbed the front seats, and pulled her narrow body through. She dropped into the car landing on her head and tumbling over.

"Ow! Shit!"

Anastasia stepped forward, but Bobby intercepted her, laying a heavy hand gently on her shoulder. "Don't worry, she'll be alright."

"You'd better hope s—" Anastasia's eyes rolled back in her head and her knees buckled under her. She fell to the concrete floor with a barely audible _thump_. Vivian turned towards Anastasia, made a momentous decision, and turned back towards Sherri.

"Take care of her!" she ordered as she held the camping lantern up to the windshield. Sherri was laying face-down, her hips stuffed between the front seats, her knees planted in the faded upholstery of the back. The rusted lever of the defunct parking brake jabbed into her blistered stomach.

"Are you alright?" Vivian asked.

"Do I look alright?" Sherri bitched. "I've been in fetish beds more comfortable than this! But, what happened to Anaya? Is she alright?" Vivian's eyes widened to the sincere concern in Sherri's voice.

"She'll be fine. Well, can you reach the ignition?"

Sherri could see nothing but a maroon-hued darkness. She groped the wheel and down the steering column until she located the dangling keychain. "Got it," she said. "Let's burn some dead dinosaurs."

"Wait, wait!" Vivian said. "It's still in gear! Push in the clutch first or it'll stall."

"Oh, fuck you. It's not going to start anyway! I've got a hurt girlfriend out there and you're _stalling _me!"

"Come on, Sherri!" Vivian begged.

"God, you're so needy."

Sherri swept her left hand over the floor until it connected with the clutch pedal. With the sum of her meager upper-body strength she shoved it to the floor. "Unuung! Now what?"

"Turn the key and hope for the best," Vivian said, crossing her fingers.

Behind them, Anastasia wasn't faring well. Her breathing was light, and it was growing weaker. "Anaya, c'mon, girl!" Bobby muttered from his squatting position beside the fallen-woman. As if in total protest, her breathing gave out and her heart stilled. "Holy shit…" he breathed as he stood upright. Erik looked over to the body and gasped, running over and stooping beside it.

"What the hell?!" Trent asked, also running over.

"What are you going on abo—" Vivian cut herself off as her eyes rested upon the body. "Oh, my God…" She shut her eyes tightly and turned back towards the car.

While struggling to keep the clutch pushed in with her left hand, Sherri awkwardly reached her right hand over her shoulder and caught hold of the key. With a breathless groan she gave it the most violent crank she could muster. The key pushed against the side of the tumbler. The tumbler turned with a click. The engine turned nothing but a cold, blue silence. Not a rev of the starter. Not a flash of accessory lights. Nothing.

Gasping air into her strained lungs, Sherri let go of the key and collapsed with her chest handing over the edge of the driver's seat and her forehead resting on the floor. "It's totally dead," she wheezed. "Just like us."

Her words floated out of the crevice, slapping the expression of something like hope off Vivian's face. The words chilled her to the bone. Sherri didn't know how right she was…about one of them at least.

"I told you it wasn't going to work," Bobby said dully.

"It must feel great to always be so right," Vivian scowled. "Fine. Let's get out of here before you're right about the roof collapsing, too."

"Yes! Yes, let's do that!" Erik agreed. "Come on, Sherri! Time to move out!"

"Bobby or Trent…someone grab Anaya's body…" Vivian sighed.

"Body?!" Sherri shrieked. A frantic scrambling commotion came from inside the car, quickly increasing in intensity and then falling into silence. "God _damn _it!" Sherri barked.

"What is it now, Sherri?"

"I can't get up. My sleeve is stuck on something." Sherri's voice quivered and Vivian could tell she was on the edge of crying. Her heart ached for her friend, but Anaya was gone. No one could change that.

Vivian held the lantern up to the windshield and squinted at Sherri's prone form. The sleeve had looped around the clutch pedal. "Well, if your sleeve's stuck, just take your coat off."

Sherri thrashed against the stringy remains of her coat, which only served to pull them tighter around her captured body. "I can't get it off!" The Rabbit rocked angrily on its loose suspensions, causing blocks of cement to break free from the ceiling and come clattering down around the others. They all threw up their hands over their heads to protect themselves. Several blocks bounced off Anastasia's corpse. The support pylons let out a moan like whales on honeymoon.

"Stop! Sherri, stop!" Vivian screamed. "Don't move! Stop moving!"

Sherri's struggling broke off into coughing and strangled breathing along with tiny sobs. The Rabbit stopped grinding against the walls. Even as the debris temporarily stopped falling, a loud, splintering crackle issued threateningly from the walls.

"God damn it!" Sherri snarled. "I'm stuck like a dick in a duck in here! What the hell happened to Anaya?!"

"Oh no, no, no," Erik mumbled. "Now what do we do?!"

"Don't panic," Vivian said. "Just calm down and don't touch _anything_. You got it?"

"Got it," Bobby nodded.

"You know I got it, girl," Trent agreed smugly. His voice sounded as if he didn't care about anything at all other than nailing Vivian.

A thunderous sound of snapping timber rang out from Erik's direction, sending a shower of gravel cascading into Vivian's hair. "Erik! I said don't _touch _anything!"

"I didn't!" Erik yelped. "The wall just—oh my G-God…"

His complexion paled as he gazed into the crevice between the two demolished vehicles behind him. Trent brandished his sword.

"Aw, what's got you spooked, Little E? Man, you need to work up some testicular fortitude and quit being such a…" He took two bold steps before freezing in his tracks. "…pussy!"

Trent was right. In the dim light of the lantern, all available evidence suggested that the creature before him was indeed a pussycat. It had the reflective yellow eyes, the pointed ears, the clawed feet. But this pussycat stood just over three feet tall at the shoulder.


	8. Chapter 8

"What the…I…I mean…this…it…its _Twiki_!" Erik stammered.

"I thought you said you killed Twiki!" Bobby hissed.

"I did!"

"Well, apparently she didn't get the memo!"

Twiki, Erik's cat, was not dead, but she did not look at all well as she emerged onto the concrete ramp. Her mangled butterscotch hide stretched horrifically over a skeleton suitable for a Saint Bernard. Yellow bones ruptured through her fur at the overstressed joints of her knees and scapulas. Her teeth curled from her head in great crooked rows, jutting out like broken glass jammed into her black gums. Massive, blood-soaked claws extended from her toes, scratching horribly against the cement floor. As she stepped out of the shadows, her body crackled like an overstuffed barrel on the verge of eruption.

"That crackle!" Bobby hissed. "That's what I've been hearing all day!"

Erik gasped. "She must have followed us here."

Erik, Bobby, and Trent all pressed themselves against the walls as Twiki stepped forward, letting out a piercing hiss. Vivian slowly pushed her palms and heels into the Rabbit's hood, crab-walking herself to the windshield and pressing her back against it. Four sets of eyes flashed frantically back and forth as they tried to work out a nonverbal plan of action, but none of them understood anything any of the others tried to convey. All they understood was that any plan for retreat was foiled by one tiny detail.

"Hellooo, assholes? I'm still stuck in here!" Sherri yelled. "Hey, what's going on out there? Where's Anaya?"

Twiki's head snapped toward the sound, locking her huge golden eyes upon the redhead pressed against the Rabbit's windshield. Vivian leaned her head toward the gap and hissed out of the corner of her mouth, "_Ssssh! _Not now, Sherri!"

"Don't _ssssh _me! What's that noise? It sounds like Snap, Crackle, and Pop are having a three-way out there! Now, what the hell happened to Anaya?!"

"Sherri, shut _up!_" Vivian bristled. Twiki's eyes narrowed as she turned her hulking body towards the convertible.

"Okay, Trent, its showtime," Bobby whispered. "Get in there and do your thing!"

The hilt of Trent's sword trembled violently in his fist. "I…I…w-w-what's that now?" he chattered.

"You protect your girls 24/7, remember?" Bobby coached. "This is what you've been waiting for all day, tough guy. Make us proud!" Bobby put his doughy hand on Trent's back and shoved him into action. Trent took several stumbling steps and came to a stop directly in front of Anastasia's now-cold body, which was directly between Twiki and the Rabbit. Twiki rocked back on her crackling haunches and hissed as Trent raised his sword with two blanched hands. He stood completely frozen in his wingtips, too terrified to even blink.

"S-st-s-st-stay b-b-back," he stammered. "I ain't p-p-pl-playin'." With Twiki momentarily distracted, Vivian didn't waste a second in returning to Sherri's rescue. She thrust her head and shoulders into the gap, once again wedging to an abrupt stop at her chest.

"Sherri!" she hissed. "Get out of there! Now!"

"I _can't_! What part of 'stuck like a dick in a duck' didn't you understand?" Vivian pushed her feet against the hood and struggled, but she was just too big for the gap. Or was the gap just too _small _for her?

"Sherri, can you still reach the clutch pedal?"

"Hellooo? I'm _tied _to it!"

"Push it in!"

With a grunt and a thrust of her tiny bicep, Sherri drove the clutch to the ground. "_Now what?_"

"Just hold it there!"

Sherri wedged her elbow under the front seat, pinning down the pedal with the bones of her own forearm. Vivian wrestled herself free and threw a glance over her shoulder. Trent still stood with his back to the car and his sword in the air, not having moved a millimeter in any direction since the last time she had seen him.

"Y-y-y-you d-d-don't wanna m-mess with m-m-me," he yammered. "I'll m-m-mess you up! For r-r-real!"

"Keep it up, Trent!" Vivian hissed. "Just keep her occupied for one more minute!" She whirled around, squatted against the hood, and planted her palms shoulder-width apart on the sloping ceiling. She took a deep breath and coordinated every muscle in her body for one concentrated push. With a sad, rusty creak, the car began, every so slowly, to roll forward. Suddenly, Vivian felt the pressure decrease a little, and she glanced sideways to see a very pale Anastasia helping her push the ceiling. She could also feel a stream of fine debris flaking off of the ceiling, but the gap was growing ever larger as the angled ceiling crept farther and farther from the windshield.

Anastasia lifted the ceiling with ease, taking most of its weight. She felt stronger and more alive than she had in years. A burning ache throbbed in the back of her throat as she took in the scents around her. She could smell boiling blood, and she could hear hammering hearts. They all sounded so delicious. _"Wait up, did I really just think that?" _she mentally asked herself.

A low growl roared up her throat and out her teeth as she lifted the ceiling further up. "Anaya…?" Vivian asked breathlessly.

"In the flesh," she whispered.

Vivian smiled and pushed harder. _"Just believe in yourself," _she thought. _"Like Nick said. You can do this!"_

Behind Vivian's and Anastasia's back, a wet, throaty hiss slithered around Twiki's jagged teeth. Her gaze was fixed on Trent's chattering teeth as her weight shifted back on the tensed muscles of her legs.

Anastasia could smell the radiation coming off the cat in waves and it was enough to make her nose crinkle in disgust. It smelled of rotting meat and death. Even its blood smelled unappealing to her. "God, what the hell is that?" Anastasia hissed to Vivian.

"Twiki," she whispered back.

"What the hell is a 'Twiki'?"

"It's not important."

"Y-y-you d-d-don't want to g-g-get all violent," Trent choked. "D-d-do you, g-girl?"

The yellow slits of Twiki's eyes narrowed as she released a cry like a hundred babies being thrown into boiling water. Trent could see each individual claw dig into the pavement in slow motion as Twiki's powerful hind legs launched her payload of teeth towards his soft flesh.

It was time for Trent to make his big move.

Anastasia could sense the movement of the cat behind her and she growled softly, "Vivian, be careful!"

Trent's sword clanged noisily to the concrete as he dove to the ground, shielding his head with his arms. Twiki sailed over his prone form, landing claws-first in Vivian's back. Her chest cracked the windshield as the monster's full weight slammed down on her unprepared body, and a piercing scream squeezed from her lungs as oversized claws sunk into her flesh and clattered down her ribcage.

"Shit! Vivian!" Sherri screamed. "What in the name of fuck is going on out there?!"

"Vivian!" Anastasia screamed as she took on the full weight of the ceiling. She lashed out with one foot at Twiki and felt it connect with the cat's forehead. The kick hadn't had enough force to it, so the mutant wasn't really affected. It just turned its gaze towards Anastasia and hissed. Anastasia could sense its misplaced fear of her and lashed out again, trying to drive it away from her friend.

Twiki ripped her claws out of Vivian's back and turned on the hood, slipping on the bloodied pads of her paws. She didn't care about Vivian. Vivian was just collateral damage. Her real pray was escaping.

As Bobby and Erik scrambled to Vivian's aid, Trent was running in exactly the opposite direction. With a deafening screech, Twiki launched off of the Rabbit and darted after him. Trent changed direction and dove into a tiny space between two parked cars jutting from the tunnel wall. The crush of the collapsed garage had compressed the wrecks into nothing more than rectangles of oily steel, but there was still enough space for Trent to shimmy between them. His craven screams were muddled by Twiki's sinewy mass as she wriggled into the narrow crevice behind him.

Anastasia gently set the roof back down and stooped beside Vivian's bloodied body. "Vivian? Can you hear me?" she asked gently, waving her hand in front of her friend's empty eyes. "She's still alive, but the bleeding needs to stop soon. Get her out of here. I'll get Sherri out."

Bobby and Erik grabbed Vivian's limp body and turned her over on the Rabbit's hood. Her naked green eyes stared blankly into the darkness. "Oh my God, oh my God," Erik chattered. "Please don't be dead! Don't be dead!"

"She's not dead. Calm down, Erik," Anastasia soothed gently. She didn't know why, but a serene feeling of calm surrounded her. She knew she should feel panic, but she didn't.

Bobby picked up Vivian's glasses and slipped them over her empty eyes. Tiny movements of air and spittle whistled between her teeth as she struggled to remain conscious.

"Bobby, we need to get her out of here like Anaya said!" Erik squeaked. Erik grabbed Vivian's wrists, but Bobby shoved him away.

"I'll take care of Vivian!" He squatted down, grabbed his sister around the waist, and hauled her over his shoulder. "You help Anaya with Sherri! I'll be right back!" Without waiting for a reply, Bobby turned and ran down the ramp toward the only way out. Erik scrambled up onto the hood of the Rabbit with Anastasia. She could hear his heart hammering overtime.

"Calm down or you'll have a heart attack!" Anastasia hissed, turning towards Erik. His eyes widened when he saw her face. "What is it?" she asked.

"Y-y-your f-face!" he stammered. Her face looked like those of the vampires he'd seen when he'd watched _Buffy the Vampire Slayer _the series. Her teeth were jagged and sharp, protruding from her mouth in a vicious snarl. Her eyes were yellow with flecks of brown around the pupils. Her brow was contorted in an odd way, coming down in a series of large bumps to form a wide V over her eyes, making them appear sunk in. Her cheeks were hollow. It was a terrifying sight. "Y-y-you're a v-v-vampire!" he shrieked.

"Hey, assholes! Did you forget I'm stuck?!" Sherri screamed.

"Alright, Sherri, let's get you out of there," Anastasia cooed, forgetting about what Erik had said. Erik turned just in time to see Trent scrambling away from Twiki in a headlong dash for the exit. He grabbed Trent's sun burnt arm and stumbled along behind like an ineffectual anchor.

"Trent! Stop! Get over here and help us!"

"Get offa me!" Trent wailed, shoving Erik away. "She's after me! The bitch is gonna kill me!" He knocked Erik to the ground and took off running again.

"Trent!" Erik screamed. "Get back here, you wuss!" Trent was already halfway to the exit when Twiki freed herself and took off after him. Erik grabbed the discarded sword and pointed it at his ex-pet. Twiki's fierce, gurgling breath rolled into an earsplitting screech as the fur on her back rose into angry spikes. "I tried to tell you that killing is wrong," Erik said, "but I guess you'll have to learn the hard way!"

With all the grace of a man who had never played an organized sport in his life, Erik leapt forward and swung the sword in a clumsy, girlish arc. The blade not only failed to hit Twiki by a wide margin, but also slipped out of his hands and sailed through the air in a helicopter-like spin, clipping the sloped ceiling and dropping hilt-first into the Rabbit.

"Ouch! What the hell?!" Sherri screamed. "Quit throwing shit at me, asshole!"

Erik's shoulders bunched. "Sorry!" He turned back to his former cat with a nervous smile. "Ah, yeah, so about that whole 'trying to kill you' thing. I was just—"

Without out a second glance, Twiki plowed past Erik and down the ramp. Trent was still a good distance from the entrance when she caught up with him. He dove between two ravaged automobiles and back into the catacombs of the groaning walls. A second later, Twiki disappeared into the opening behind him.

Erik jumped onto the hood of the Rabbit beside Anastasia and began to push against the roof like Vivian had done. Anastasia joined in and took most of the weight. Erik slipped in a puddle of Vivian's blood and slammed his jaw into the top of the windshield, sending a shockwave through his skull. Fist-sized clods of jagged concrete pounded down upon Sherri.

"Ow! Ow! Shit!" She thrashed. "Will somebody get me out of here already?!"

"Shut up! We're trying!" Erik wailed. "I can't move the car!"

"Maybe I can!" Anastasia countered, digging her heels into the hood and pushed hard against the ceiling with a small exerted grunt.

"Well, stop throwing shit at me!" Sherri yelled.

"I'm not! The ceiling is coming down!" Erik hissed.

"The ceiling is _what_?!" Erik didn't have to explain. At that very moment the building let out a groan like a constipated elephant, dropping the thousand-ton ceiling. Anastasia was still attempting to hold it up. With a shower of debris, the sloped roof came down, starting from its fulcrum ten feet behind the Rabbit. The concrete slab fell in a cascading wave, pinching the back end of the trapped vehicle and launching it out of its cell like an unwilling Tiddly Wink.

"Shit, we're moving! Where's the brake?!" Sherri yelped.

Erik threw out his arms and grabbed the sides of the windshields as gravity yanked the suddenly liberated Rabbit down the ramp.

"Don't hit the brake!" Anastasia and Erik screamed simultaneously.

Although it was all happening very fast, Anastasia could make out every small detail and she tilted her head sideways. She grabbed onto the windshield as Erik had done and felt her hair lash at her face as the wind buffeted her from behind.

Sherri lifted her hand from the gas pedal, but before it had moved an inch it came to an abrupt halt. In her frenzy, the shreds of her right sleeve had become entwined around it. "You've got to be shittin' me," she groaned. Erik looked to the point of light that marked the exit. It would probably be the last thing he saw before the ceiling crushed them into a wet meat pancake. "Fuckshit O'Fuckery!" Sherri cursed. Her arms thrashed wildly against their bonds. Clutch, gas. Clutch, clutch, gas.

Erik couldn't hear Sherri's curses over the squeaking of pedals, the thunder of the splintering garage, and the roar of the Rabbit's engine as it sprang to life. Sherri ground her back against the steering wheel as she struggled to push herself off the floor, throwing the Rabbit into a mad, careening arc around the side of the building.

"Bobby!" Erik screamed. "Look out!" Under the weight of his sister, Bobby lurched out of the runaway Rabbit's path as it tore past him. "Brakes, Sherri! Brakes!" Erik wailed. "_Now _you can hit the brakes!"

Sherri's left arm was now tightly bound to the clutch, her right to the gas. There was only one thing to do. "Hold on to your ass!" she screamed. With a lurch of her neck, she slammed her sun burnt forehead down on the brake pedal, locking the Rabbit in a squealing spin. The bald tires spun on the fallout-dusted pavement, not coming to a full stop until the front bumper rammed into the side of the fountain. Anastasia had jumped off the hood before the collision happened, having seen it coming. She'd tried to grab Erik, but missed him by a few inches.

Her thoughts turned to Sherri as she landed on her feet and Erik slipped off the hood like a puck on an air hockey table, splashing down in the filthy water of the fountain. Having served its purpose, the Rabbit's engine shuddered, wheezed, and stalled itself out.

Erik scrambled out of the water and dropped with a wet _plop _onto the dusty sidewalk. An out-of-breath Bobby arrived and gently set Vivian down on the fountain's edge. "Erik, you okay, dude?" he asked.

"I'm okay," Erik nodded. "You?"

"Yeah, I'm okay," Bobby said, touching his bloodied shirt. "None of this is mine." They both turned their heads to where Anastasia stood a few feet away. Erik had been right. Her face was contorted into a horrific fashion. "Holy shit, Anaya! Where's Buffy when you need her?"

With a now-trembling hand she tensely reached up and felt her facial features. With a gasp, she ran over to the fountain's edge and peered into the water. Her reflection was of some terrifying creature. She shook her head vigorously from side to side, slinging her black hair over her face repeatedly. She stopped and looked into the water again. Her normal face was back in its rightful place. "What the—?" Her question was cut off when Sherri yelled.

"I'm okay, you're okay, everybody is fucking okay! Now will somebody fucking get me the fuck out of this car for fuck's sake?!"

Bobby waddled to the side of the convertible, but Anastasia had already beaten him there. With a fierce pull using her new-found strength, she wrenched the door open. Sherri's narrow hips were still wedged in between the front seats, her legs thrown across the back, both arms tied down to the pedals. Anastasia reach in and placed her hand on Sherri's back.

"Looking good, Sher," she smiled.

"Holy fuck! Anaya?! I thought…you were… But then, I heard…and oh, God, I'm glad you're okay!" Sherri stammered.

"I'll be right out here waiting with open arms when Bobby gets you free," Anastasia cooed as she moved aside. Bobby grabbed the sword from where it lay on Sherri's back.

"Stay still for a second," he ordered. With a few sawing thrusts of the blade he cut the knotted strands of leather from Sherri's wrists. He dropped the sword into the street, and then pulled Sherri's thrashing body out of the vehicle. As soon as she was stood upright, she raced over to Anastasia and wrapped her arms around the taller girl's neck.

"Anaya, I'm so happy you're alright!"

"I could say the same for you, Sherri," Anastasia purred. "Now, let me take a look at Vivian." She gently released Sherri and walked over to where Vivian sat. "Hey, Vivian. Are you holding up okay? Do you want me to take a look at your wound?" she asked gently. Vivian shook her head and smiled feebly at her new friend.

"I'll…be alright." Anastasia sat down beside Vivian and peered at her back. The smell of her fresh blood hit Anastasia's nostrils full force and caused her face to revert back to its previous state.

She sprung away from her hurt friend and bounded back to Sherri's side. "You're vamping out again, Anaya," Bobby pointed out.

"Vamping out…? What the fuck?" Sherri asked as she turned towards her girlfriend and reach up to feel her face. Her bony fingers skimmed over the lumps on her brow and over her pointed teeth. "Damn, Anaya. What happened to you?"

"I have no idea," she said, taking Sherri's wandering hand in her own. "All I know is that all of you smell delicious… If it wasn't for that damn cabbage-smelling fog."

Erik decided to be the one to change the subject. "Sherri, you started the car!" he squeaked. "How did you do that?"

"I don't know—it was rolling and I just mashed all the pedals," Sherri said. "I told you I don't know how to drive stick."

"She did a push start," Vivian mumbled weakly.

"She did what?" Erik asked.

"It's a trick to turn over an engine with a bad starter," Vivian whispered. "You just get it rolling and pop the clutch." Erik snapped his fingers.

"That's right! Just like in _The Karate Kid_! Remember, Viv? Daniel's mom's car would never start, so they always had to pop the clutch, and when he went on that date with the rich girl—"

"Erik," Vivian murmured, "not now." Her face had turned a pale, floury white as two streamed of blood leached down her back and into the squalid water of the fountain. Erik's face collapsed. He sat by Vivian's side and gently took her hand.

"I'm sorry, Viv. You were right: the car works. We're going to find a hospital. We're going to be safe. All five of us."

Bobby's eyes popped open. "Holy crap," he gasped. "What happened to that other idiot?"

Erik looked at what was left of the garage. It no longer resembled a cube, but had fallen into a classic heap. The pulverized cement dust hung heavily in the pink vapor, threatening to reconstruct itself into a statue of a cloud. "He didn't make it," he said softly.


	9. Chapter 9

Vivian and Bobby looked reverently at the slabbed pile. Sherri shrugged. "Serves him right," she said. "Cowardly prick bastard." Erik turned towards her and scowled. It was wrong to speak ill of the dead, even if they had it coming.

"He _technically _saved our lives in there," he said. "Sherri, Anaya, and I probably wouldn't have made it out alive if he hadn't been…distracting Twiki. He may have had his shortcomings, but we have to at least thank him for that." The others nodded and grunted.

"That fucking cat of yours packs one hell of a nasty punch," Anastasia remarked, throwing a glance to Vivian. Her face had turned back to normal a bit ago, and her arm was around Sherri's tiny waist. "Trent saved our asses, and because of him we all made it out unhar—alive." She stroked her hand up and down Sherri's side gently.

"Compliment accepted," a smarmy voice said. "Now y'all know, when the goin' gets tough, you best step back and leave the heroics to the T!" Five heads snapped toward two rows of gleaming white teeth emerging from the cloud.

"So, he's alive then," Sherri sighed. "Gee, that's swell."

"Alive and kickin', yo! That wild pussy was all up on me, but the Lord guided me to safety just before the walls came a-tumblin' down."

"Exactly, he's alive now, but not for long," Anastasia growled as she left Sherri's side and walked up to Trent. Without a thought she lashed out and grabbed Trent by his throat. He let out a spluttering cough and clawed at her hand. She lifted him a little off the ground and let a fearsome growl rip from her throat. "You almost got Vivian killed, you walking piece of bullshit! Give me one good reason why I shouldn't rip your throat out right now! You're about as brave as a goddamn mouse!" Her anger was swelling quickly within her and her grip tightened slightly, prompting another spluttering hack from Trent. Her face morphed back into its 'vamp' stage, as Bobby called it, and Trent's eyes widened and his clawing became more frantic.

"No, Anaya! Let him go!" Bobby yelped as he stepped forward. With a forced breath, Anaya dropped Trent to the ground and stepped back towards Sherri.

"You should let me finish him now! I would gain much joy out of draining his blood! Wait a minute, no I wouldn't. He even smells like fucking fake," Anaya shrieked. Bobby put a heavy hand on her shoulder as he did before.

"Calm down, Anaya. It will be alright."

"You said that before I died, too," she snapped.

Bobby sighed and turned to look at Trent skeptically. "Yet you _somehow _managed to get out without so much as a scratch."

"Not hardly, Big B," Trent said as he regained his posture. "That escape was tight, yo. I'm talkin' 'door hit my ass on the way out' tight." He turned around and stuck out his hip, gesturing over his shoulder at a single, miniscule slash of blood that cut across the back of his khaki trousers.

Erik leapt to his feet and shot out a finger. "You cowardly prick bastard! We could have all died in there because of you!"

"Little E, you're straight flippin' like a dolphin at Sea World," Trent said. "I saved all y'all and you know it. You had nothin' but good things to say about the T a minute ago."

"That's because I thought you were dead!" Erik snapped.

"Can I please kill him now?" Anastasia begged. "I'm getting hungry and poseur blood is better than no blood." Trent's eyes widened and he shook his head.

"You thought the cat was dead too. It's a good thing you're not a medical professional, Dr. Gravedigger."

"Look, I killed whatever attacked me in the sewer!" Erik said. "So maybe it _wasn't _Twiki after all!"

Anastasia growled softly and Sherri put her hand on the small of Anastasia's back. "It's alright, Anaya. Forget him," she whispered, pulling her much taller girlfriend into her arms. Anastasia smiled and leaned down to kiss the blind girl. "Wow," Sherri sighed as they broke apart. "I've never kissed a vampire before." Anastasia chuckled and kissed the crown of Sherri's head.

Trent was waving his hand dismissively at Erik. "That's right, E. You best change your story. Only one man had the stones to kill that savage beast, and it was yours truly, Terence Trent DeLaRosa. I used my mad skillz to mess that girl up, yo."

"She's not the only girl you messed up!" Erik screamed. "You almost got Vivian killed!" Trent brushed Erik aside and knelt down next to Vivian's hunched, bloodied form.

"Vivi girl, I offer you my humblest and most sincere apologies. You know that I wasn't jumpin' out the way up in there! I was tryin' to lure that foul creature away from you. How was I to know it would be too dumb to take the bait?"

Vivian pushed Trent away and wobbled to her feet, making her way to her brother and leaning heavily against him. "Leave her alone, Trent," Bobby growled, gently embracing his sister. "I saw your distraction technique, and it looked to me like the only thing you were trying to save was your own ass."

"Save my ass? Save my ass?" Trent turned and thrust out his backside, pointing to his scrape. "Hello? I tore myself a new asshole trying to save you ungrateful clowns. For real! Vivi, you know I'm bein' straight with y'all! I was just tryin' to get that thing away from you so that I could properly dismantle it without soiling your pretty green eyes with the spectacle."

Vivian turned her clouded head away from him and rested it on Bobby's shoulder. Anastasia took Sherri's hand in hers and went over to stand on Vivian's other side. With her free hand, she put her hand on Vivian's bloodied shoulder. Sherri cast her blind eyes in Trent's direction and squeezed Anastasia's cold hand.

"Come on, girl! I killed that monster! I killed it for you! Once I knew you were safe I ripped that bitch apart, yo! With my bare hands! I was all smashin' in its grill like 'Bam! This one is for my homegirl, Vivi!' I ain't lyin', girl! And you know what? If that freaky freak was here now, I'd do it all again just so you could see it. For real. That's the gospel truth, y'all."

Just as Trent raised his right hand and unsheathed his winning smile, a crackling sound ripped from the settling cloud. The particulate-laden vapor curled away from the monstrous, screeching form of Twiki as she came barreling into the street at full speed. Torn to shreds by the collapsing walls, the ragged net of her fur barely contained a spill of pulsating organs, their moist surfaces coated with pulverized concrete.

Trent turned to run, but his heels knocked against the fountain. There was no time to consider another direction. There was no time to even scream. Everything in his universe disappeared as Twiki launched off of the ground, reducing his entire world to two flying rows of blood-slicked fangs. The next thing Trent felt was a whoosh of steel through the air and a face full of hot, stinging, viscera. Before he knew what hit him, the full weight of a flying, headless feline connected with his chest, splattering him with liberated organs and knocking him backwards into the fountain.

The tip of the sword smashed into the sidewalk, completing a whistling arc that had sliced through Twiki's neck like a guillotine blade. Through the blood-red midnight of her vision, Sherri had cleanly decapitated the monster in mid-air with one mighty swing.

Trent thrashed his way out from under the draining carcass and flopped with a gruesome, soggy _splat _onto the sidewalk. "I…I…you…you…" he gasped. "You…you…"

"Yeah, yeah, shut the fuck up," Sherri said. "I know what I did. I'm regretting it already." She drove the tip of the blade into the sidewalk inches from Trent's ear. "Now could you all stop freaking the fuck out for a second and tell me exactly what it is that I just saved your asses from?"

"It was my cat!" Erik squealed. "She mutated into an atomic monster! It's the radiation from the bomb!"

"Erik, you're _insane_," Vivian muttered. "Radiation doesn't turn house cats into monsters.

"Vivian, for cryin' out loud, look at it!" Erik chirped, pointing toward the fountain. "It's glowing like something Homer Simpson brought home from work!"

Everyone glared at the decapitated remains of the beast resting on the bottom of the fountain. The murky water obscured its form, but they could still make out the shapes of claws and teeth radiating an eerie blue glow from the pool.

"Whatever attacked me in the sewer did the same exact thing after I smashed its head. These things glow when you kill them! Now tell me _that's _not a classic indication of a radioactive monster!" Erik continued.

Bobby scratched his chin. "I suppose it's not _impossible_," he said. "I mean, after the Chernobyl meltdown they had all kinds of freakish mutant animals being born with too many heads and not enough anuses."

"That's they key word," Vivian said, "_born_. Radiation is not a toggle between 'normal' and 'B-movie.' Those mutants had their DNA damaged while their cells were still forming."

"Who are you—Mr. Fucking Wizard? Who the fuck cares?!" Sherri yelped. "Cats are turning into hellspawn here! Does it really matter what _caused _it?"

"You're right. It could have been anything," Erik said nervously. "Who knows what kind of atomized toxins we've been exposed to today. Asbestos, mercury, olestra! I mean, just smell that air, for Christ's sake!" With those words, everyone's acclimated nostrils were suddenly reminded of the stinking pink vapor.

"Mm…there's nothing like the smell of evaporated red tide in the evening!" Anastasia exclaimed sarcastically.

Trent blinked with sudden realization. "Hold up; hold up. We've been huffin' on that air all day too. If that's what turned pretty kitty into a stone-cold killer, why isn't it happening to us?"

"Who says that it's not?" Bobby said. "Maybe it _is _happening to us. Maybe it just hasn't started to take effect yet because we're so much bigger than Twiki is. Err…_was_."

A long moment of silence passed. "Well, it's not going to happen to me," Sherri said.

"How can you be so sure?" Trent asked.

Sherri whipped the sword from the ground and set it against her neck. "Because I'll kill myself first."

Anastasia hissed in surprise and pulled the sword away from Sherri. "Remember what I said? I don't like it when you talk like that, Sherri," she whispered. She closed her normal green eyes and tossed the sword into the back of the Rabbit without looking. It hit in the seat the exact way she'd wanted it to with a soft thud.

Everyone stared at the couple as Sherri's words splattered against their ears. "Oh, that's such a poseur goth answer," Erik smirked. "_I'm _not going to mutate, _I'm _just going to commit _suicide. _I'm so _dark _and _tragic_. Why don't you just kill all of us too, while you're at it?"

"Who says I won't, smart-ass?" Sherri's bloody eyes rolled over the shadows of her friends. She stabbed a blistered finger toward the fountain and spoke with menace. "Whatever happened to that cat is probably happening to every one of us. I say we make a pact right here and now that as soon as one of us starts to go all _Food of the Gods _like that, the rest of us swear to take the motherfucker down." She made a fist and thrust it into the center of the group. "Who's with me?"

"Oh jeez, Sherri," Erik sighed. "Kill me if I turn into one of them? That's a little _From Dusk Till Dawn_ian, isn't it?" Trent put his hand on Sherri's and gave it a lecherous squeeze.

"No, no, she's right, E. Don't get me wrong, I consider it an honor and a privilege to know all of you fine people, but if you come at me like that big pussy at the fountain, I'll send any one of you to the next world in a heartbeat. That's a promise."

"Oh, please," Erik and Anastasia said simultaneously. "That last guy I saw who dealt with monsters as effectively as you had a goatee and a box of Scooby Snacks," Erik continued alone.

Bobby clapped his hand nonchalantly on top of Trent's. "I'm in."

"What?!" Erik squeaked.

"Seriously, _look _at that thing," Bobby said. "Take a good look at it, Erik. It's not Twiki. It's not even a _cat _anymore. That thing had an unrecoverable system error on a genetic level. If that shit happens to me, I hope that one of you will have the balls to put an end to it. It'd do it for you. That's all I'm sayin'."

"That's so messed up!" Erik argued. "Bobby, I'm your best friend! Vivian is your own sister! Are you telling me that you could just take that sword and _murder_ one of us? Well, we wouldn't murder you! Right, Viv?"

He threw a hopeful look at Vivian. She turned her eyes to the ground and dropped her bloody hand on top of Bobby's. "I would," she whispered. "It's the right thing to do under the circumstances."

"Under the circumstances?!" Erik squealed. _"Under the circumstances?!_ This is all crazy! And illegal! Under no circumstances do the laws of civilized society allow friends to murder each other!"

"We're not in civilized society," Vivian said darkly. "And until we are, the only laws we have are our own. Everything else has been lost to oblivion." She looked at the glowing remains in the fountain. "We're now part of the oblivion society."

Anastasia lifted her head and met the gazes of the four who'd made the pact, and then she looked towards Erik. "Well, I suppose you'll have to kill me. Whatever happened to that cat has already happened to me," she pointed out as her face shifted into its vamp stage. "So, which one of you has the balls to kill me?"

Trent smirked. "I'd gladly do it. Creatures such as you have no soul."

Sherri took a hesitant step toward Anastasia. "No, she has plenty of soul, god damn you! Trent, you're just a sad motherfucker. She'd kick your ass before you had time to get the sword." As Sherri stepped forward, Anastasia stepped back.

"Oh, fuck this," Sherri hissed as she ran towards Anastasia and enveloped her in a gigantic embrace. "You're not a monster. You're my girlfriend. My dead sexy, vampire girlfriend, who I won't let any of these fuckers kill. Got me?" Sherri asked.

Anastasia revealed her jagged smile and picked Sherri up again, bridal style. "Hmm… I think I've pretty much got you." Sherri smiled and nuzzled into Anastasia's cold, rock-hard body.

"Good."

Vivian looked at the couple and smiled warmly. They were so good together. If she'd ever seen Sherri be gentle to anyone, it was Anastasia. Bobby and Erik were also smiling at the two. Trent was the only one who frowned. "Vivi girl, you know that that chick is one of _them_," Trent mumbled as he cast his gaze to the fountain.

"Trent, if you lay so much as a hand on either one of them, I will personally kick your ass," Vivian growled. Bobby and Erik nodded agreement.

Anastasia put Sherri back on her feet and took her girlfriend's bony hand in hers. "Well, what are we waiting for, guys? The apocalypse? Well, that's already happened. Let's get your wounds cleaned up, Vivian. Trent, you can suffer," she teased with a mocking evil-laugh. Her face turned back to normal and she flashed them her perfectly straight smile.


	10. Chapter 10

The push-started Rabbit's three bald radials hummed a hypnotic bass note over Interstate 67 northbound, accompanied by the uneasy guest tenor of the temporary spare. The wind sang a shrill aria as it rushed over the surface of the satellite dish, latched to the hood with a scavenged rope of colorful, triangular flags, which contributed a continuous round of flappy-slappy applause.

The air was like an arctic wind in the open convertible. Vivian was noticeably shivering in the driver's seat, doing her best to peer over the dish through her fractured glasses and windshield. Logic dictated that someone less injured should drive, but after being attacked by a giant housecat, Vivian wasn't on speaking terms with logic. In its place, she had fallen back on habit. Her car was all that was left of the world as she knew it, and she was going to drive it. Period.

She hunched over the steering wheel to keep weight off of her lacerated back. The survivors of Twiki's last catfight had bandaged themselves up with the only fabric on hand: the moldy canvas of the Rabbit's convertible top. The thick, coarse canvas was completely inappropriate for medical dressings, but it was better than nothing, and nothing was the only other thing they had.

Trent had mummified Vivian's entire torso in a stiff, unyielding wrap. All the while, he had blathered on about the importance of stopping the blood flow and the principle of a tourniquet. Although he had been right, it was obvious he'd been trying to make a cleavage-enhancing corset. He had been quite successful, until Anastasia pushed him away—with force and a death threat—and finished it so that Vivian would be slightly more comfortable.

Erik was slumped unconscious in the passenger seat, arms crossed, palms pressed to the soiled bandages of his own injuries. The others were wedged into the tiny back seat. Although removing the convertible's top had provided a few inches of elbow room, the back seat would have been cramped for two passengers, let alone the four it was now forced to accommodate.

Bobby was behind his sister, head tipped back and snoring loudly into the wind. Trent was on the opposite side. Between them, Sherri's slumbering face was buried in Trent's chest, depositing a puddle of drool on his shirt. Trent slept with one arm around her shoulders, one hand on her narrow thigh, and his cheek resting softly on the top of her head. Judging by the grin on his face, even in his dreams, he could feel the nubs of her hitherto unknown breasts pressing pertly against his side.

Anastasia was impossible cramped into the tiny car's backseat-floorboard. Trent's wingtip shoes were irritatingly and uncomfortably digging into her side. Her long legs were sprawled out over Sherri's boots and Bobby's legs. Bobby's extra "luggage" and the back of Vivian's seat caused her knees to meet, forcing her calves to sprawl out in an obscured V shape. Her own boots were braced against the door, hoping it didn't fly open, lest she be spilled out and deposited on the side of the highway. Her back was positioned in a painful-looking shape and her head was resting in Sherri's lap. Her eyes were closed, but she wasn't asleep. She didn't have any complaints about her position and she didn't feel any pain, so why voice up? The only thing that bothered her was that Trent had his arm around her girl. When he woke up, it better be removed or Anastasia would be forced to remove it _personally_.

Nobody could say how long it had been since they'd left the ruins of the Banyan Terrace parking garage, but it had been long enough to make Vivian uneasy that they had not yet reached a destination. Any destination at all. Her dusty eyes scraped against her eyelids as they rolled to the instrument panel. Again, not out of logic, but habit. She knew that no matter how many times she looked at the dashboard clock, its arms would remain seized exactly at nine minutes to midnight—the time at which the world came to an abrupt end.

Vivian started to nod off, and then jerked into a caricature of alertness. She was exhausted beyond the point of conscious thought, yet she dared not stop. In the quiet of the desolate highway, she could hear Sherri's words repeating in a haunting echo.

_"Whatever happened to that cat is probably happening to every one of us right now."_

This was the fear that had driven a wedge between Vivian and logic. What _did _happen to that cat? What if it _did _happen to one of her friends? What if it happened to _her_? In her sleep-deprived psyche, her fear of the mutant cat became one with her fear of the unknown.

She had driven out of the cloud of pink vapor that shrouded Stillwater County ages ago. It wouldn't be much longer until they were out from under this canopy of churning black atmosphere and basking in the blue sky and hot Georgian sun. If she just kept driving she'd find civilization, and somebody would give her a simple, logical explanation as to what had happened.

Everything would be okay. She just needed to keep driving.

Her feverish thoughts were interrupted by a long finger of smoke touching the horizon. She squinted into the distance, and her heart began to beat hard in anticipation. The black column slid over the landscape, ever closer, ever larger, in her field of view. She flicked her eyes to her unconscious companions, then to Anastasia, but none of them stirred. Her breathing quickened, crushing her lungs against the sides of their canvas prison with each constricted pant. Then, as suddenly as it had appeared, the shape was upon her, hurling itself at her front bumper. It was a cat the size of a pickup truck, its coat burning with a hellish red flame. The monster's metallic eye sockets were five feet apart and devoid of flesh. Vivian jerked the wheel and her car swerved, missing the demon's blazing grimace by mere inches.

The Rabbit's sleeping passengers launched into abrupt consciousness as it fishtailed across the empty lanes with a heart-stopping squeal.

When the vehicle came to a complete stop, Anastasia let out the breath she'd been holding since Vivian decided to go dare-devil on them. "Is everyone alright?" she asked quietly, letting her head relax back into Sherri's lap.

"Jesus Christ, Vivian!" Bobby roared. "What the hell?!"

"Bobby!" Vivian gasped. "It…it was a—"

She threw a terrified glance into the rearview mirror and saw nothing but a burning pickup truck lying in the center of the road. The smoldering wreck was completely bereft of life, feline or otherwise. Vivian rubbed the residue of the hallucination out of her eyes with her palms. "I'm sorry. I thought it…I mean, the headlights looked like…never mind."

"It's alright, Vivian. You're just tired," Anastasia soothed understandingly. She reached out to put her hand on her friend's shoulder but was interrupted by the boy named Erik.

"Whoa, where are we?" he asked groggily. "How long have I been asleep?"

"I don't know. A long time," Vivian said. "I think we're getting close to the state line."

"Well, don't you think we should switch drivers for a while?" Erik asked pointedly.

"No," Vivian yawned. "I'm fine." Before Erik could attempt to appeal, the sounds of bony fists pounding into flesh splattered from the backseat.

"Hey! What the fuck are you doing?" Sherri shrieked. "Get off of me, you assbag!"

"Ow! Hey! Watch the sunburn! We're all friends here!" Trent yelped.

As much as she hated to, Anastasia leapt to Trent's aid. She sat up completely, straining her back muscles and took Sherri's face between her hands gently. "Hey, calm down, sweetie. I'm sure it wasn't on _purpose_," she cooed to her girlfriend. "Right, Trent?" she growled at the assbag.

Trent let go of the thrashing girl and held his blistered arms above his head in surrender. Sherri gave him one last elbow in the chest.

"Don't you ever fucking touch me again, diaper boy!"

"Ha! Diaper boy," Bobby laughed. "Classic." This prompted Trent to scowl and Anastasia to burst out laughing.

"It's so true!" she said between laughs, clutching her stomach as if to make her stop laughing.

The slash in Trent's hindquarters necessitated a unique bandage configuration, and a corseted Vivian had taken her passive-aggressive revenge. Over his khakis, Trent now wore what could only be described as a comically oversized diaper of canvas bandages. He looked at Sherri and smiled innocently.

"You don't have to be so aggressive, girl," he said. "These quarters are cramped and you're chilled all the way to your fine little bones. Why don't you just snuggle up and enjoy the generous body heat that the T is serving up? My guns are hot, and your honey-barbecued skin is so, so cold. It's more comfortable for everyone if we get them together, sweetness."

Sherri's eyes narrowed and Anastasia bared her teeth in what could only be described as a snarl laden with a thousand death threats.

"Touch me while I'm asleep again, and I'll tear your arm off and shove it down your throat until you punch yourself in the balls from the inside." Anastasia smiled approvingly at her girl, and then returned her cold glare to Trent.

"She'll have to get in line. What I'm going to do to you if you touch her again will make what she said seem like a spring breeze. You're going to _wish _that what she's going to do would be the only thing happening to you!" Anastasia barked furiously.

Trent fidgeted in his diaper, wrapping his arms around himself and pulling as far away from Sherri as possible.

"Alright, look, I respect and admire this whole 'punk rock' thing that you play so delightfully, but you're going to have to let down this hostile curtain sooner of later for the sake of humanity."

"What the fuck is _that _supposed to mean?!" Sherri spat.

"I think you know. 'Be fruitful, and multiply. Replenish the earth, and subdue it.'"

Bobby let out a snort. "Dude, I think the earth is about as subdued as it's going to get."

"Oh, that's it, you smarmy asshole! Get out of the car now. I'm going to rip your fucking leg off and use it to beat your body into a pulp!" Anastasia threatened as she stood and leapt out of the stationary vehicle with ease, sailing over Bobby's and Vivian's heads. She landed easily in front of the vehicle, looking scarier than death itself.

Sherri looked around for Anastasia, but couldn't find her in her maroon-hued darkness. Her head snapped towards Anastasia's voice when it sounded, "C'mon, you cowardly prick bastard. Show me what you've got."

"Trent, stop being an ass. Anaya, please get back into the car. I know he's being an ass, but we need to go a little further before night falls," Vivian pleaded sleepily.

With a huff of frustration and a look of pure concentration, Anastasia forced her "vamped-out" face to return to normal and jumped back into the small car, landing precisely where she'd jumped out from. With a quiet chill that could cut through steel, she settled back into her previous seat, placing her head in Sherri's lap once again. She broke the silence with a subdued murmur. "She could snuggle up to me, but fuck no. I'm dead! I'm cold as fucking ice! Fuck you, Trent."

Sherri reached out with a bony hand and stroked her girlfriend's midnight hair comfortingly. "Plus," she added, "I don't care what your bullshit mythology says, there is no chance of me ever having sex with you. _Ever_."

"Seriously, dude, give it a rest," Bobby said. "For all we know, we could be seconds from turning into bloodthirsty mutant monsters—no offense, Anaya—and you still can't wrap your head around anything bigger than your own wang. You're pathetic."

Anastasia nodded her head in agreement and turned her head so that her face was pressed against Sherri's legs, hiding her face away. She ran her lips along the charred flesh of her girl's thigh gently, letting her cool breath trickle over her lips and onto Sherri's already-cold skin. Trent did have a point, Sherri did need warmth, but Anastasia would rather her snuggle up to Bobby…or Vivian…or even Erik! She felt Sherri shiver slightly and stopped. Meanwhile, Sherri was still running her fingers through Anastasia's hair.

"On the contrary," Trent said smugly. "I am comfortable expressing my healthy affection for the fairer sex because I know we're all safe. I've figured out the secret."

"Alright, I'll bite," Bobby said. "What's the secret, professor?"

"I've been trying to think—what protected us? What makes us so special?" Trent said. "What was flowing through each and every one of us that was _not _in that creature that attacked us? Then it hit me. It's all about the spirits."

"Really? Well, you're still pathetic," Anastasia muttered.

"Hmm…spirits," Bobby pondered. "You know, that's actually a pretty good theory!"

"But of course," Trent gloated.

"What if it _is _the spirits? Alcohol is a powerful disinfectant, and we were all sauced to the gills last night," Bobby continued. "You and me were going into about round eleven, and Sherri and Anaya must have had at least twice their body weight in malt liquor."

"Wait, hold up," Trent said.

"And I had a daiquiri the size of a beach ball," Vivian nodded. "Maybe all of the alcohol in our bloodstreams killed whatever caused Twiki to mutate!"

"Then I'm gonna be fine," Sherri said. "I've been pissed since I was fourteen years old."

"No, no, listen!" Trent argued. "I'm not talking distilled spirits; I'm talking the _Holy Spirit_, yo. I'm talking _souls_."

"Nah, I like Bobby's answer better," Sherri said. "I don't have a soul."

"You _do _have a soul," Trent and Anastasia argued simultaneously. "God created man in His image and endowed us each with a soul. Animals don't have souls. That's why little kitty cat turned into a demon," Trent finished alone.

"Oh, shut up, Trent," Erik said. "My cat had just as much of a soul as I do. Cats are people, too!"

"Cats are _not_ people," Trent said. "Starting today, cats aren't even cats. They're minions of Beelzebub himself. The only thing standing between out warm bodies and his cold puppet strings is that little impervious suit of armor called the everlasting soul, yo…in most of us, anyways," he corrected with a cold glare at Anastasia, who just shrugged it off. "Besides, Little E wasn't even drinking last night, were you?"

"Shut up," Erik grumbled.

"That's right," Vivian said. "Erik, you _weren't _drinking last night."

"Well, no, not last _night_," Erik replied sheepishly. "But I did have a bunch of Tequizas over at your place before work yesterday afternoon. So, you know, I'm alright. Don't nobody worry 'bout me."

His eyes rolled to his swollen bandage and lingered for a long moment before returning to the grey scenery.

Anastasia lifted her head and peeked around the front seat to look at Erik. "Don't worry, kid. Nothing can be worse than this," she teased as her face vamped-out. She smiled a jagged smile and continued to as her face reverted back to normal, straightening out her white smile back to its perfect self. Her smile was contagious and caused Erik to smile back at her.

With a smile still in place, Anastasia leaned back into the backseat and placed her head gingerly back in Sherri's lap, closing her eyes and enjoying the presence of her girlfriend.

"Alright, I don't care what y'all choose to believe. It will all become clear when _He _wants it to be clear," Trent said, pointing skyward. "Vivi, my love, could we please pull over and take a little rest break? If I have to endure this sandpaper seat against my sunburn for another minute, I'm going to go insane in the membrane, for real. Are you with me here, Lobster B?"

"Nah, my sunburn's fine," Bobby said, rubbing the flaking side of his face. "But I'd still like to take a break from Sherri's bony-ass elbows digging into my side for a while."

"Oh, and let me tell you, it's a real picnic having your fat gut all blubbering on me like a horny walrus," Sherri snarled. "Can somebody explain to me one more time why me and Anaya are stuck back here with fat-ass and the perv while you two beanpoles get to sprawl out all over the front seat?"

"It's sort of like a triage," Erik said. "Vivian and I shouldn't be physically traumatized right now. We have the most severe wounds."

"Where the fuck was _I _when we took this vote?!" Sherri shouted. "Because last time I checked, you two pussies had some little scratches and I had full body sunburn and eyeballs full of my own blood! What makes you think you're so goddamn fragile, Sievert?"

"Never mind," Erik said.

"Fuck you, never mind! Get your narrow ass back here; I'm riding in the front."

Anastasia ran her hand softly down Sherri's fishnet-clad leg, knowing it would help calm her down. She was right, it did, but Sherri was still mad. "Sweetie, I can sit between Bobby and…_IT_…while you sit on my lap, if you like." Sherri breathed in deeply and exhaled slowly.

"It's very tempting, and I would appreciate it, Anaya," she replied gratefully.

"Here, let me help you," Anastasia offered as she stood up with ease, bracing herself against the buffeting wind that made her hair lash against her face. In the blink of an eye, she'd managed to get Sherri up and sit down in her place, and then gently place Sherri on her lap while wrapping her arms around the burnt girl's midsection—acting as a living seatbelt. The movement was too fast; every other passenger in the small car missed it. Sherri leaned back into Anastasia and rested her head under her chin.

Anastasia yelped suddenly and Sherri jumped. "What? What happened?"

The taller girl knew she would have blushed if she'd been able to. Her reply was soft and barely audible. "You kind of…hiked my skirt up when you did that…"

"Good on me, then," Sherri congratulated herself as she leaned back into Anastasia again, closing her blood-red eyes with a snicker.

Erik was looking down at the floor sullenly. "Okay, okay. I didn't want to show you this, but I guess it's only fair." He slowly unbuckled his seatbelt, turned, and stood on his knees to face the backseat. He moved with an unnatural stiffness in his torso, as if unable to bend anything from his distended waist upwards. His hair thrashed around his skull as his head cleared the protection of the cracked windshield.

"Believe it or not," he said, "there are worse things than having to sit next to Trent."

He pulled up his shirt, revealing purple and black swells of infected flesh rolling from the top and bottom of his bandages. Behind the wrappings, clusters of knobby flesh thrust from the center of each wound, some remaining contained within the soiled fabric, others poking bony points through its surface.

"Oh _hell _no!" Trent squeaked, putting up a wall of palms between him and the seething scabs. "That shit is messed up. Seriously, homes, you need to get those filthy-ass bandages changed, and you need to do it yesterday!"

Vivian gasped. She had never seen living tissue swell up so quickly. That is, outside of Twiki. Her vision went hazy as she watched Erik gingerly slide his fingers under his bandages and yank them apart with a furious thrust. The wrappings disintegrated, and a hail of blood and meat exploded from his destroyed midsection, revealing Twiki's gore-streaked face screaming through his shredded organs!


	11. Chapter 11

"No freakin' way," Erik said gloomily. "There is no way this bandage is coming off until there's a doctor around."

Vivian blinked hard and shook her head. Erik's bandages were still intact around his bloated wounds. She pounded her palm against her forehead as a shiver of relief and residual hallucinogenic terror flushed through her body. All other eyes remained fixed on Erik's gruesome belly.

"Hey, what's the big deal? What are we looking at?" Sherri squinted. "C'mere, let me touch it." Her finger shot out and poked into the bandage. As she touched it, the bony mounds within seemed to close in around her hand. Erik slapped her away with a gasp.

"Holeeeeeeeeeey shit," Bobby said. "Did that feel as bad as it looked?" Anastasia grimaced and took Sherri's hand in her own.

"It didn't, actually," Erik shrugged. "She just surprised me. It…it actually doesn't hurt at all." He poked his own finger at the numb scars. "In fact, it doesn't feel like _anything_. It's not even warm. It's like—"

"It's like cadaver's flesh," Sherri said, rubbing her fingers together in fascination. Anastasia peered around Sherri's bony form and gazed apologetically at Erik.

"If it's any consolation, I'm all dead and still alive and kickin'… Eh, mostly," she joked. "Erik, you'll be okay." She reached around Sherri and placed her hand over Erik's.

Erik's expression agreed with Sherri's statement, then tried to deny agreement, then settled on regret for bringing it up at all. He turned and slumped back into his seat without another word.

"You're body's dying," Sherri said. "Pay no attention."

Anastasia sighed and withdrew her hand, putting it in Sherri's lap. She closed her eyes and rested her head against Sherri's charred back gently. A slight turn of her head allowed her to place feather-light kisses up Sherri's back. Even through the tattered remains of the trench coat that still hung indignantly from her body and through her shirt, Sherri shivered…but it wasn't in a bad way.

Vivian wondered about Erik's feeling no pain at all. With the biggest breath she could possibly take, she straightened her arms against the steering wheel and shoved her back into the seat. Two streaks of searing pain raced down the parallel gashes in her flesh and up her spin, hitting the bottom of her brain with a flat, heavy punch. She leaned forward and sucked in a hiss of air through clenched teeth.

"Vivian? Are you alright?" Anastasia asked with sincere concern. A small grunt was all she got in reply.

Sherri turned sideways in Anastasia's lap and brought her frozen knees up to her chest and rolled herself into a tight ball. Her boots further cramped Trent and Bobby into the walls, but they each silently conceded their space in hopes that it might keep her quiet for a while.

"It's colder than the ninth circle out here," she moaned. "Seriously, Powderpuff, will you pull over already? What's your deal? Are we in bat country or something?"

"For real," Trent agreed. "Either stop the car, or kill me."

"Does it have to be one or the other?" Bobby and Anastasia quipped at the same time.

"We can't stop," Vivian said. "I'm sorry that you're all uncomfortable, but until we find safety, nothing short of an act of God will stop this car."

Almost before the words had left her lips, the Rabbit's engine began to convulse under the hood. "Oh no," Vivian muttered. "Come on, little car. Not now. Not now!" She furiously pumped the gas pedal, but the engine chugged a rattling death throe and fell silent. The lifeless Rabbit rolled a few hundred feet to a placid stop in the middle of the road.

"What happened?" Erik whimpered. "Why did the car stop?"

"Who cares why it stopped?" Sherri said, stomping on Trent's lap and vaulting out of the vehicle, closely followed by Anastasia who took the time to make _sure _she stepped on Trent. "As long as we get out of the car for a while."

"It's out of gas," Vivian groaned. "I'm sorry. I didn't know. The gauges are all dead. I mean, I knew the fuel wouldn't last forever, but I just filled up last night, and I was hoping that it would last until we got to…you know…_something._"

Outside the car, Anastasia and Sherri were chasing each other about like love-struck teenagers. Sherri was mainly doing the running away and running in circles, but Anastasia was always just a few steps behind. With a little leap, Anastasia overtook Sherri and wrapped her arms around the smiling girl. With a little growl, Anastasia nuzzled her neck. Sherri laughed girlishly and pressed back into her girlfriend.

The rest of the survivors in the car looked at the two young girls with mixed emotions. There was awe, shame, love, disgust, compassion, anger, envy, and happiness. Vivian smiled a weary smile at the twosome and wished them the best. They went well together. They were perfect for each other. _They _still gave her hope that happiness could exist in the world, even after its end.

"Don't sweat it, Vivi," Trent smiled as his gaze returned to the redhead. "You said yourself that only an act of God would stop this car. Maybe we were supposed to stop here. Maybe He's trying to give us some kind of sign."

"Yeah, I'm sure that's it," Sherri said, stretching out her legs with long, ambling steps beside Anastasia. "We just drove three hundred miles non-stop in an overloaded beater, and somehow through the majesty and spectacle of God's will we managed to run out of gas. That's it. I'm converted."

Vivian slid out of the car and carefully stretched her weary back and shoulders.

"What do we do now?" Erik asked.

Anastasia wrapped her arms around her much shorter girlfriend's waist and pulled her close, getting snuggled against in return.

"There's only one thing _to _do," Vivian replied. "We're going to have to walk to the next gas station and bring back as much fuel as we can."

"Why do you think the next gas station is within walking distance?" Bobby asked. Vivian slung the Army backpack over her shoulder.

"Because it has to be."

~X~

Hours passed, and the sky slowly cooled from a dismal gray to an earnest black as the six survivors trudged down the derelict highway. In the distance, an enormous rectangle of florescent yellow peered through the haze of the encroaching night. An unspoken hope united them all in the idea that this shape was a gas station.

Bobby led the pack, followed by Trent. Sherri followed the cranberry-colored blob of their combined silhouettes in her vision. Anastasia walked closely behind her, keeping her senses alert for any signs of danger. Erik walked stiffly behind her, his shoulders slumped, his eyes barely focused on the back of her boots. His bloated torso lurched from side to side with each plodding step. Vivian followed, watching his labored gait and trying to ignore the fact that he looked like something out of _Night of the Living Dead_.

"We've been walking for hours," Erik moaned. "If we don't find something soon, somebody's going to have to carry me."

"S'no problem, eh!" Bobby said.

"Really? Cool. I was expecting a little more resistance than that."

"No. _S'no problem,_" Bobby repeated. "Look."

Erik lifted his gaze from Anastasia's boots and looked to the side of the road and his entire field of vision was filled with a blinding shade of Day-Glo lemon. The structure that they had been hiking towards was not a building at all, but a billboard of disgustingly gratuitous proportions.

From the left side of the sign, a cartoon Canadian Mountie towered thirty feet into the air, chest deep in snow and holding aloft a shovel. Despite his hypothermic predicament, the grin on his face and the twinkle in his Pac-Man-shaped eyes betrayed no fear of death. To the right was a field of hot-pink text in block letters three feet tall. Trent was the one who read them aloud.

"Pierre sez, 'S'no problem, eh!' North of the Border – 363 miles."

"That has to be the creepiest thing I've ever seen. That's even creepier than Zoobles. For Christ's sake, what the hell? What kinds of messed up cartoons were they shoving down our children's throats on Saturday morning?" Anastasia exclaimed, not taking her eyes off the gigantic Mountie. Her body convulsed in a mock shiver.

"It's 'S'no problem, eh!' I think you're more likely to bite than he is," Bobby joked. This caused Anastasia to laugh, even though the joke was more or less at her expense.

"S'no problem, my _ass_," Sherri griped. "I'm tired, I'm blind, and my butt crack is frozen shit. I'm done." Her bony legs crumpled, dropping her body into a lethargic sprawl across the pavement. "When you get the car started, come back and run me the fuck over."

"I'm with Sherri," Bobby said. "I'm beat, and it's getting dark. Well, _darker_. Looks like it's time to stop for the night."

"What do you mean, 'stop for the night'?!" Erik squeaked. "What are we supposed to do? Just lay down here by the side of the highway and go to sleep like a bunch of rail-riding hobos? Are you insane?!"

"I'm sorry, Erik," Bobby sighed. "All the five-star places were booked up tonight."

"I'm not tired at all, so I could keep watch. Plus, I don't think anything short of a miracle or a bottle or two of malt liquor will get Sherri up and moving," Anastasia teased as she kneeled down beside her girlfriend, who gave her a playful punch on the shoulder. "Ow! Hey, hey. Easy there, Tiger," she laughed.

"No, I agree with Erik," Vivian said. "We have to keep moving. We have to find some shelter before it gets dark. It's not safe here."

"Hon, I don't think any place is safe right now for us," Anastasia countered politely.

"Look, we've been walking for hours and we haven't seen jack shit," Bobby said. "I'm sorry, but we're on the interstate in the middle of nowhere. It's safer to just stay put until morning. We don't want to be wandering around once it turns blacker than Darth Vader's codpiece out here."

"Codpiece? Really…?" Anastasia asked with a sarcastic smirk.

"Oh, you come up with something better!"

"How about as black as Trent thinks he is?" she quipped.

"Ooh, that's a good one," Bobby and Sherri replied. Erik laughed weakly and Vivian grinned slightly, trying to hold back laughter. Trent scowled at Anastasia, but didn't offer a rebuttal.

"Oh, yeah, I've still got it," Anastasia cheered.

Vivian's panicked, laughing, breath surged against her bandages, yet her lungs refused to accept the air. They couldn't just stay here in the open. It was illogical. It was dangerous! Her corset suddenly felt tight enough to splinter her ribs. In desperation, she turned to the one person who was guaranteed to go along with anything she said. "What do you think, Trent? We should keep going until we find shelter, right?"

"Sorry, Vivi, consider me with Heavy B," Trent said. "My dogs are barkin', yo. It's time to bed down and get some serious sleep on. But there's no need for unease, girl. We're all safe here."

Vivian's eyebrows arched in disbelief. "Safe? What makes you think that?"

"That's the sign. The sign from God," Trent said, pointing at the billboard. "He wanted to tell us that there's no problem. We're safe here."

"That is _not _a sign from God!" Erik argued. "It's barely even a sign for some crappy North Carolina tourist trap! It's just a bad pun and a rip-off of Dudley Do-Right!"

"That's two for, two against," Bobby said. "Anaya, what do you want to do?"

"I'm good either way, but with Sherri, so goes my notion," she replied honestly.

"Sherri, you're the tiebreaker. Whaddya say?"

Sherri rolled over and pressed her cheek into the pavement. "Put me down for whatever says I don't have to get up."

"That's it then," Bobby said, collapsing into the grass. "We're down for the night."

"But…but!" Vivian stammered. "But, you guys, seriously! We've got no protection!"

"Vivian, it's not that bad, I mean—" Anastasia was cut off by Trent's smarmy voice and she silently seethed.

"You've got all the protection you need right here, baby," Trent said, holding out his arms. "Come on over here and get enveloped in a field of securi-T."

"You guys, this is serious!" Vivian pleaded. "If we're going to stay here, we need to at least build a fire before it gets any colder."

"Ix-nay on the ire-fay," Trent said. "Don't go messing with the equation, Vivi. We're safe now. A fire might just attract those things that go bump in the night. Besides, you've got all the warmth you need right here, my little frost bunny."

"Oh, please!" Anastasia groaned as she slumped against the lying form of Sherri. "Give it a break, _Casanova_!"

With a broad grin, Trent again held out his arms for Vivian. She ignored him and began searching through the tall grass for sticks.

"Bobby, come and help me with this, please?" The heap of her brother returned nothing but a resounding snore from the very base of his sinuses. "Great," Vivian muttered. "Thanks a lot, Bob." She could feel her face prickle with hot frustration. Why wouldn't anyone just help her?

"I'll help you," Erik said. He smiled and took a stiff, lurching step toward her. Vivian stared into the bloated wounds peeking from beneath his shirt.

"Oh, uh…thanks, Erik. But you shouldn't exert yourself with your…I mean…you really don't have to—" Vivian was at a loss for words. "I mean—" Words failed her again.

"Yeah, quit being such a kiss-ass, Little E," Trent sneered, holding out his arms. "Vivian can stay plenty warm tonight without your help."

"He's right," Vivian said. After a moment, her face crunched in revulsion. "I mean, he's _not _right, but you're all…I mean… Look, you're in no condition to—"

"I'm okay," Erik said, squatting laboriously to pick up a stick. "I want to help you get a fire going."

"Of course you do," Trent grumbled. "Lousy cock block."

"Trent, are you going to help or not?" Vivian snapped.

"I _am _helping! I tell you, this fire is not meant to be, Vivi," Trent yawned, slouching down against the front of the sign. "When you get tried of your little fire idea, my offer, and my arms, stay open all night, girl." He put his hands behind his head, kicked his legs apart on the ground, and closed his eyes smugly.

Vivian took a shallow breath, unclenched her jaw, and went back to gathering sticks. "Here, Vivian. I'll lend a hand," Anastasia offered as she hopped up from beside the sleeping form of Sherri. She trotted over to them in an almost cat-like gait. She stooped to her knees and began picking up sticks.

Vivian and Erik both smiled at their friend. "So, what's this Trent-Guy's deal? I mean, I don't get it. I'm gay and dead, Sherri's my girlfriend, and Vivian, I hope to whatever high power there may be that you're not falling for him." Anastasia hesitated with her gathering and put on a thoughtful look. "Shouldn't he give up before he really pisses one of us off?"

Vivian sighed and grumbled, "I wish he would. The guy's a prick, but he's a survivor…" Erik nodded his agreement and Anastasia sighed. They went back to working quietly. Although crippled by his wounds, Erik worked diligently with only minor grunts of complaint. In about ten minutes, they had gathered a decent stack of kindling by the shoulder of the road. They squatted next to it, surrounded by a silence broken only by three points of faint snoring nearby.

"If you guys don't mind, I think I'm going to go look for something to…uh…_drink_. It's getting kind of hard to be around you. No offense, but you know how it is. Vampire plus humans equals mass destruction," Anastasia confessed, hanging her head slightly in defeat.

"It's no problem, although, I don't know what you'll find out here. I hope you do find _something _though," Vivian replied.

"Happy hunting!" Erik replied cheerfully. This got a giggle out of Anastasia. She pushed off on her knees and rose slowly to her feet. Vivian and Erik also stood to see her off.

The vampire walked over to her two human friends and hugged them each in turn. Her hug with Erik was slightly gentler and it lingered longer as she whispered in his ear softly, "Watch over her, yeah?" It was spoken so quietly Erik wasn't sure he'd hear her correctly. When she stepped away, she winked at him and then looked towards Vivian. "Well, I'm off. Don't know when I'll be back. Keep an eye on Cupcake, alright?" she asked, jabbing a thumb over her shoulder in the direction of Sherri.

"Cupcake?" Erik chuckled. Vivian grinned and bit her lip as laughter threatened to pour out.

"Damn straight. Just…don't tell her I said that. She's liable to put a stake through my heart if she knew!" Anastasia joked. "Try to get some sleep, you two." In the blink of an eye, Anastasia was gone. The only evidence of her having been there was a small cloud of dust where she'd dug her heels in to run.

Vivian turned to Erik. "Thanks for your help," she said.

"Eh, I had to," Erik shrugged. "If it gets any colder out here, _I'm _gonna take Trent up on his offer." Vivian smiled weakly. She picked up two of the larger sticks and started rubbing them together. "Oh no," Erik said. "What are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing? I'm starting the fire. Of all people, surely _you _have seen somebody do this in a movie."

"No, I haven't! Have _you_?" Erik moaned. "Oh man, I thought you had a lighter in your purse. This will never work." Vivian lowered her sticks.

"Why not?"

"Because it's just a cheap plot device. Have you ever noticed that every time a civilized person in a movie tries to make a fire, he says 'I saw this once in a movie,' then he rubs the sticks for an hour but never gets it to work? Only faithful Indian guides and crafty indigenous aliens can actually pull off that trick. Its how the screenwriter teaches the jaded urban protagonist to appreciate a simpler way of life."

"Don't be ridiculous," Vivian said. "It's just simple physics. Friction makes heat; heat makes fire."

"I'm sorry, Vivian," Erik frowned. "We probably would have better luck using your glasses to focus the sunlight. That one always works." He looked up at the blackened sky. "Well…when there's sunlight." Vivian continued her stick-rubbing.

"Well, this isn't a movie," she muttered. "Trust me, this will work." She rubbed her sticks furiously. She had laid down dry brush for kindling. There was sufficient airflow around the friction surfaces. She knew what she was doing, and she was doing everything right. Yet after many long minutes of increasingly sloppy strokes, she dropped the cold sticks and resigned to a gasping defeat.

"Damn it!" she wheezed, tugging at her constricting bandages. "This… should…work…"

"Oh Viv, I'm so sorry," Erik said, putting his hand on her icy shoulder. "I'm not trying to be a jerk or anything; I was just telling it like it is. The stick thing just doesn't work. Ever. Wee may as well just go to sleep."

Vivian leaned dizzily into Erik's chest as she struggled for air. A stagnant aroma of skin oil and rotten cabbage wafted from her hair into his nose, but he didn't mind. He put his arm around her, gently squeezing her against his gnarled midsection. As his scars pressed against her, Vivian gasped and shoved herself away from him. Her cheeks blushed as her eyes flicked guiltily to the ground. "Right, uh…yeah," she said with forced nonchalance. "So, okay. No fire then."

Erik knew what she was thinking. "It's okay, Viv. I'm going to be alright. I promise I'm not going to hur—"

He stopped and shook his head. "Not going to _let anything _hurt you."

He put his hands over his scars and stared silently into the night. Vivian lay down in the rough grass. Although there was no light at all, she could swear that she could see a blue glow coming from Erik's bandages. She tried to blink her eyes and realized that they were already closed. A minute later, she was lost in a black and dreamless sleep.

Erik watched Vivian's exposed, vulnerable body shivering against the ground, and an idea congealed within his muddled head.

~X~

A good distance away from the caravan of survivors, Anastasia stopped running and listened closely to the silence that surrounded her. She could still make out Vivian's and Erik's voices coming from behind her. Ahead of her, she heard nothing. It was the same for all around her. She drew in a deep sigh and held her breath for a moment, trying to identify all the scents. There was the smell of tar, body odor, Sherri, the other members of the group, gasoline, blood… _"Wait, gasoline and blood?" _Anastasia's stomach growled in anticipation and a burn rose in her throat that made her feel parched.

She crouched low to the ground and started towards the scent, following it carefully. Suddenly, another more-acrid smell hit her nose. "Oh God!" she exclaimed as the smell of rotten meat washed over her. She dry heaved convulsively, but continued forward anyway. Soon, she was standing in front of a mom-and-pop gas station that was surrounded by a platoon of Jeeps in various states of decomposition. The smell of blood and rotten meat was coming from the inside.

Deciding to investigate, she pinched her nose and went inside. What she saw surprised her, and made a frenzy rise deep within her. She did what instinct told her to do. She fed…


	12. Chapter 12

Vivian was the first to launch into consciousness with a gasping breath. Her lungs felt as if a set of encyclopedias had been stacked on her chest. She sat up and found herself swaddled in a blanket of Day-Glo yellow Mylar emblazoned with an enormous pink "3". She blinked hard, letting her poorly rested eyes soak up her surroundings.

Directly to her side was the pile of sticks that she, Erik, and Anastasia had collected, still intact, still unburned. In the dim gray light of this perversion of morning, the pile looked exactly as it had in twilight. Exactly the same, except for the shredded bark. And the blood.

Her mind reeled as she kicked her way out of her impromptu sleeping bad and stumbled to her feet. Once the blanket was off, she realized that it too was smeared with broad swaths of dried blood.

Her mind suddenly jumped to one conclusion. Anastasia. Then she shoved it away. It was preposterous.

She quickly examined herself as her heart hammered against her compressed lungs. The blood wasn't hers. Her eyes flashed around the sketchy campsite. Bobby and Trent were exactly where she had left them the night before, unconscious and vigorously snoring. Sherri lay on her back in the middle of the road with her limbs splayed like Da Vinci's Vitruvian Man. Anastasia was under one of Sherri's arms and was snuggled contentedly against her girlfriend's side, seemingly asleep. They were all unharmed.

A blanket sized hole had been torn in the face of the billboard, truncating the distance to North of the Border to only 36 miles. Vivian's panicked eyes darted so quickly that she passed over what she was looking for three full times before she spotted it in the billboard's shadow: Erik's body, showing no apparent signs of life.

"Erik?" she squeaked. "Are you okay?" She scrambled over to where he lay, and her hand clapped to her mouth to stifle a scream. His chest was soaked in dried blood, covered with the palm of his limp hand. "Erik?" she gasped, dropping to her knees. "Erik!"

She pulled his hand off of his bloody chest and let out a relieved breath. There was no massive chest wound. There wasn't even a rip in his shirt. But the blood?

She turned his hand over to find his slender palm fringed with ragged skin. His other hand was wrapped around her Swiss Army Knife, soaked in the blood of another mangled palm and tangled with fibers of yellow plastic. With Vivian yanking at his arms, Erik roused groggily.

"Erik!" she cried. "What happened?"

Erik blinked dimly. "Rubbin' sticks didden work," he mumbled. "Made a blanket insead." With that, he closed his eyes and slumped wearily into the dirt. The previous night unraveled in Vivian's mind. He must have rubbed those sticks for _hours _before giving up and devising a Plan B.

"Oh Erik, why did you do this to yourse—"

She squatted down next to Erik's collapsed body, but before she could right him, she noticed something beyond the edge of the billboard. She blinked hard to clear the mirage, but it remained steadfast, not a hundred yards behind the tower of tourist trap advertising. Nestled off the highway, on a loop of blacktop that could only be called an off ramp in the most liberal of definitions, sat a sleepy little mom-and-pop gas station.

Vivian grabbed Erik by the shoulders and shook him from his dozing. "Erik, you found it!"

"Wha? Whadd I find?"

"Vivian stood up and turned toward the others with glee. "You guys! Wake up! Wake up and come here!" She heard the sounds of interrupted snoring, muffled stirring, and coughed obscenities coming from the other side of the massive sign. A moment later, Bobby, Trent, Sherri, and Anastasia had assembled at her side.

Sherri leaned against Anastasia, who'd wrapped her arms around her and snuggled back up against her back. With her eyes closed, Anastasia rested her head against the crook of her girlfriend's neck. The shorter girl turned and gave Anastasia a quick peck on the cheek and a murmured "Morning, Sunshine."

"A gas station!" Vivian pointed. "Look! Erik found it!" She was gushing about excitedly while Anastasia groaned and pressed her face more against Sherri's neck, remembering last night and her frenzy.

"Little E didn't find anything, oh ye of little faith," Trent grumbled. "It was the sign, yo. The _sign _led to our salvation. Just like the T told you it would."

"Yeah, nice work," Bobby said sarcastically. "We could have slept inside that building last night if God hadn't put this giant comforting sign in our way."

"Or we could have walked past it in the dark and never found it at all," Trent countered.

Sherri interrupted their argument with a rasping, trachea-blistering cough. Anastasia's head snapped up and she looked Sherri over with worry.

"You gonna live?" Bobby asked.

"Yeah, yeah," Sherri croaked. "I just need my wake-up smoke. Man, I'd give anything for a cigarette right now." With that, she turned and silenced Anastasia's panicked worry with a kiss that could make a hooker blush. Immediately, Anastasia's body froze up and her eyes rolled back in her head slowly as her arms instinctively came to rest around Sherri's tiny waist. Sherri stood up on her tiptoes, much like she had the first time they kissed, and cupped Anastasia's face in her hands.

Erik cleared his throat and raised his shredded palm. "A lot of good it would do ya. Even if you had one, you couldn't light it."

Sherri broke away from the kiss and turned to him with incomprehension. Anastasia surveyed the group. Bobby was looking away from them with a slight blush, as was Vivian. Trent just scowled at her with jealous envy. "Why not?" Sherri asked.

She whipped out a Zippo lighter and produced two inches of yellow-blue flame with a snap of her finger against the flint wheel. Erik folded his clotting palms under his arms with a scowl. "Never mind," he grumbled.

"Well, I don't know about you good folks, but I'm starvin' like Lee Marvin," Trent said, thrusting out a genteel elbow. "I know we skipped the step that traditionally comes before, but could I escort you to breakfast anyway, Vivi?"

"Go to hell, Trent," Vivian growled. Anastasia walked up behind Vivian, with Sherri in tow, and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"I'd go anywhere for you," Trent said. "But I won't go there."

"Jesus, I've only been awake for five seconds, and you people are already annoying the piss out of me," Sherri said. "Let me at that gas station already. I need a pack of cancer sticks." She tugged on Anastasia's hand and tried to pull her towards the gas station.

Following Sherri's lead, the group stretched the remaining sleep out of their bodies and headed for the nearby filling station.

The gas station held home to a limp Confederate flag fluttering in the breeze. Over the door hung a tattered sign that read "The South will rise again!" The front porch of the building was haunted by a wooden rocking chair and a chunky red cooler with a white swoosh.

"All right!" Erik cheered. "The pause that refreshes!" He scrambled onto the porch and yanked open the antique cooler. He pulled out a bottle, wrenched off the top, and dumped the whole thing down his dry throat without coming up for air. "Ah!" he said with a satisfied belch. "Can't beat the real thing."

"It's about time," Sherri said, stomping onto the porch and sticking out her hand. "Gimme one!"

Erik popped open another bottle and slipped it into her fingers. "Catch the wave," he smiled.

Sherri plunged the bottle into her lips, took an impressively long swig, and then spat out the soda like a carbonated volcano. "Agh! This isn't beer!" she gasped, foam dripping from her chin. "Why didn't you say this was Coke?"

"Didn't I?" Erik asked.

"This is bullshit," Sherri declared. "I'm going to find some real food."

"Wait a second, Sherri," Anastasia called out as she stepped in front of her girlfriend. "You've got a little something…" She put her face close to Sherri's and flicked her tongue out and licked the carbonated foam in a seductive manner from Sherri's lips and chin.

"Gee, if I knew you were going to do that, I would've downed more of that Coke shit," Sherri remarked as she captured Anastasia's lips in a quick, but deep, kiss.

Bobby looked at the two girls as another blush graced his face. "Uh…I'm with you," Bobby agreed. "Let's eat already. I feel like somebody did an 'rm star' on my stomach."

He grabbed the handle of the sagging front door and wrenched it open, and an overwhelming stench of putrid meat poured from the interior of the store, forcing everyone to take a step back and interject their favorite expletive.

"Good Lord," Trent murmured. "What crawled all up in there and died?"

Anastasia looked away with shame as she covered her nose to keep her from dry heaving.

"It smells like everything in the meat cooler has spoiled," Vivian said. "This place has probably been without power for about two days now."

"Fuck it," Sherri sighed, pulling her T-shirt over her nose. "I'm starving. I don't care what it smells like—I'm getting some breakfast." She marched through the door's dark outline in the strawberry jam of her vision. Anastasia ran after her and held Sherri's eagerly waiting hand.

"You could have waited outside and I would've found you something," she whispered.

"I know, sweetheart." She got closer to her girl's side and squeezed her cold hand gently. "It's not _that _bad."

"Stop lying, Sher. It doesn't suit you," Anastasia replied teasingly with a gentle smile.

"You gotta do what you gotta do," Bobby shrugged, pulling his own shirt over his face. "C'mon, let's go shoplifting."

Outside, the rest of the group stood in awe at the others' bravery—most of them, anyways. Vivian stood completely still on the front porch with a bright red blush on her face, rivaling the color of her hair. Had their kiss actually turned her on? _"Gah!" _she thought. _"If it did, it did." _She looked into the shadowy darkness on the other side of the door. Although the stench of rancid meat was overpowering, all she could smell was burnt soda and spilt blood running down her chin. Not-so-distant memories flooded her mind of Boltzmann's Market. As her nose tingled with phantom odors, the two claw scars burned up and down her back. There was a simple pattern. Every time she went into a building, something very bad happened to her.

"I…I'm not actually that hungry. It's…you know, the smell and everything," she said with affected nonchalance. "Erik, could you please just grab me something for later?"

Erik stared through the darkened doorway, paralyzed. In the unknown darkness within, he could only picture two charred corpses disintegrating into tons of collapsing parking garage. Independently reaching the same conclusion that Vivian had, he took a nervous step backwards. "Nuh-uh. No. No way," he stammered. "Forget breakfast—I wouldn't go in there for all the food in a 'Weird Al' song."

Trent shook his head, then bowed before Vivian and kissed her hand with a smarmy grin. "_I'll _bring you something, sweet Vivi," he said. "We _real _men exist only to serve the fairer sex. I would be honored to bring you whatever tasty treats your little heart desires."

Vivian turned her eyes to the ground shamefully. "Thanks, Trent. I'm not picky. Just being me something that's not spoiled and has some nutritional value, please."

"Your wish is my command," Trent cooed, holding his nose and sweeping himself into the store.

"God, what a tool," Erik grumbled. "Bobby, could you grab something for me too while you're in there?"

"Ha! Do I look like I want to get into your pants?" Bobby said. "Get your own food, wussy."

~X~

Bobby had ended up giving Erik some pixie sticks as a joke. So, he'd gone back into the store with the Army Surplus bag to fetch some real food for his best friend. Outside, Vivian and Erik were talking to each other in hushed tones; Vivian asking if he was okay and thanking him for his help last night. Erik avoided the true meaning to her question and accepted the thanks.

Bobby, Sherri, Anastasia, and Trent fanned out between the blue steel shelves of the tiny convenience store. Its few windows were small and ineffectively placed, allowing only a thin veil of light to intrude.

"Whoa, it's like if Rambo moved to Hazzard County," Bobby quipped. "Look at this place!"

Above the shelves of expired snack foods and warm sodas, the upper perimeter of the store was encircled with pictures torn from gun and girlie magazines. From where he was standing, Bobby could see a postcard from Stone Mountain Park ("The Mount Rushmore of the South!"), a poster of a Camaro painted up in camouflage, and half a dozen pin-ups of melon-breasted bikini models holding oversized firearms.

"Disgusting," Trent said. "Women are not objects." With a quick glance over his shoulder, he snagged a picture of a voluptuous redhead with a flamethrower and stuffed it in his pocket.

"Hey, B-Money," he continued, "what delicacies would tickle your fine sister's discriminating palate? As her knight in shining armor, I intend to bring her back a meal that's fit for a princess, such as she is."

"Oh, wow. Knock it off, Casanova!" Anastasia called from somewhere else in the tiny store.

Bobby sighed deeply and ran his hand over his stubbly face. "Look, Trent, I'm going to level with you here in an attempt to save us all a lot of headache. You are not going to sleep with Vivian. Ever. Trust me; I've seen her reject guys that were only _one-tenth _as disgusting as you."

Trent shrugged. "Just you watch, dawg. Once the T turns on the charm, the ladies always—"

"Dude! Seriously," Bobby interrupted. "Give it up. It ain't gonna happen."

"Come on, B. We're pals!" Trent nudged. "Give me the inside scoop. What's it gonna take to win her over?"

Bobby blew a long breath through pursed lips and shook his head. "Okay. How can I put this so that you can understand it? The _only way _you would ever have the _slightest possibility _of a _chance _with Vivian is if _every single other guy on the planet _was _dead_. Did you get that?"

"Oh, I get it," Trent said with a smarmy grin. "But, I think you underestimate me."

Bobby rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. "It's like trying to reason with monkey testicles."

~X~

While the boys continued to argue, Sherri turned in a slow circle, dragging her stare across the walls with a sneering squint. All she could see were four rectangles of pink light hanging in a field of darkness. The first was the door she had just come in through, followed by three windows. She held out her hand until she touched a shelf, and then followed it, grasping its contents and looking them over with her blistered fingertips. Half a dozen unidentifiable cleaning products passed through her hands before thumping to the floor, rejected. She tore open a bag of Fritos only to find upon her first greedy mouthful that it was actually dry macaroni. After a second mouthful proved to be no better than the first, she dropped the bag with a clatter and continued down the shelf.

Anastasia followed close behind, snickering at her girlfriend's sheer bluntness. "Sherri, dear, why don't you let me find you something?"

"I can do this. Just tell me before I eat or drink anything like Mr. Clean," she replied.

"Wow, you're stubborn," Anastasia remarked, stepping closer to her and wrapping her arms around the tiny woman from behind. Sherri placed her hands over Anastasia's and leaned back slightly into the embrace.

"I know, but you love me."

"That I do," Anastasia admitted with a smile on her face. She closed her eyes and nuzzled her nose against Sherri's neck gently.

"Man, this place smells like a heavy girl on a hot day," Trent coughed. "Let's make with a little freshness in here."

He picked up two cans of aerosol deodorant, popped the caps off with his thumbs, and proceeded to spray down the fetid air with the flowery scent of shower-fresh underarms.

"Mr. Clean and the Scrubbing Bubbles working in ten-hour shifts couldn't take the stink out of this place," Bobby said, taking the can from Trent. "There is, however, still hope for my cabbagey ass."

He shoved the deodorant under his T-shirt and sprayed down his squalid armpits. He pulled the can from under his shirt, shrugging, and sprayed down the rest of his body. Trent sniffed under his own arm, winced, and followed Bobby's example.

"Whoo!" he hooted. "That B.O. has got to G.O."

He wandered into the next aisle and found Sherri, her mouth full and a trickle of thick brown saliva running down her chin, and Anastasia, snickering softly at her girlfriend.

"You schmell like vending machine tamponsh," she slurred.

"She's right, Trent. Although, anything is better than this mess," Anastasia agreed. She put her arm around Sherri and smiled while wiping away the thin line of brown drool. She then pressed her lips against Sherri's forehead in a gentle kiss.

Trent looked at Sherri's chomping jaw and grinned. "So tell me, Elvira, what does a Goth girl eat for breakfast?"

Sherri flashed a box of Count Chocula from under her arm.

"Typical," Trent laughed, picking up his own box of cereal and tearing off its top.

Sherri swallowed and wiped her mouth on what was left of her sleeve. "So tell me, Preppie," she said sweetly, "what does an overcompensating closet queer eat for breakfast?"

Trent stopped in mid-chew and looked guiltily down at his box of Fruity Pebbles. "This means nothing."

Anastasia covered her mouth with her hand delicately and laughed softly. She then turned and hid her face in Sherri's bleached hair.

"Here, take a hit of this, Stinky," Bobby interrupted, pressing a deodorant can into Sherri's free hand. "It's strong enough for a man, but it's made for an angry little woman."

Sherri dropped the can on the floor and went back to her cereal. "Nah, I'm fine."

"Fine?" Bobby asked. "Not hardly, cabbage pits. You smell like the baby that Xavier Roberts threw away."

"I don't wear deodorant," Sherri said. "That's how the Man marks you with his scent and makes you his property. It's just like how dogs piss on trees. Every time that you wear deodorant, you're just letting the Man piss on you."

"Sherri, how long exactly did you work on that little speech?" Anastasia teased.

"Fine. Have it your way, Little Miss Tinfoil Hat," Bobby said, picking up the can and stuffing it into the backpack. "I'll just save it so Viv and Erik can have a spray."

"And then you'll be stanky all by your lonesome in your own little stanky club of one," Trent said. "Girl, don't you even want to _try _to be like everybody else?"

Sherri shook her head and leaned against Anastasia. "You know, sometimes I can't tell if you're kidding, or if you're actually that fucking clueless."

~X~

Outside, Vivian and Erik were looking for containers to carry gas in. Erik was trying to get a watering can out from under the porch of the gas station. It took him lots of stretching and effort to reach the blasted thing, but he finally got it. "No sweat," he said as he wiped the sweat from his brow. He held up his prize when he saw Vivian.

Vivian had also found some. She'd found six five-gallon gas cans. Erik stared at her in disbelief.

After a bit of conversation and Erik feeling the stab of embarrassment, he tried to suck gas out of the pump, only to be lectured by Vivian on why it was impossible. Vivian came up with a plan to suck the gas out of the Jeeps—which WAS possible—rather than Erik suffocate while trying to get it out of the pump itself.

~X~

Inside the store, Anastasia was keeping a watchful eye on Sherri as she walked with blind determination until her outstretched palms connected with something solid. With a sweep of her arms and a flutter of bony fingers she explored the objects on its surface. Her left hand hit a small cardboard box, and her fingers scurried inside, feeling out two plastic and metal tubes.

"Oh, fuck me. I can't find a cigarette to save my life, but I can always find lipstick." She picked up the box with the intention of throwing it at the nearest wall, but instead paused and licked her uncharacteristically pink lips. Without turning she pulled one of the heavy tubes from the box and held it in the air. "Hey, what color is this lipstick?" she demanded.

On the other side of the store, Bobby was thumbing through a rack of road maps. He stuffed an east coast highway map into his back pocket and squinted at Sherri in the dim light. "Looks black," he said.

"I'll be damned," Sherri shrugged. "It's my lucky day."

"Just like a woman," Trent sighed. "You send them to get food, and they come back with makeup."

"Why don't you come here and I'll put some on you?" Sherri said. "That way you can leave a receipt when you _kiss _my _ass!_"

"Knock it off, you two," Bobby barked. "Your charming banter isn't getting us out of this stink box any faster."

Anastasia took in an unnecessary breath before spluttering it back out. "I agree with Bobby," she choked.

With an unintelligible grumble, Sherri stuffed both tubes into her coat pocket and continued her groping exploration.

"Wait a sec, Sher," Anastasia said as she walked up to her girlfriend. She reached into Sherri's pocket and withdrew one of the tubes. With a gentle touch, she applied a thin layer to Sherri's lips before giving her a soft kiss. "There you go, sweetie," she whispered.

Sherri's left hand hit paper. She picked it up. It was a book. Not too thick. Paperback. Damp. Irrelevant. She threw it over her shoulder and heard it flutter to rest on the ground.

Her right hand brushed against a square plastic dish. She dove into the shallow bowl to find three pennies, a toothpick, and a cigarette butt. Although she couldn't see it, she knew the dish was red and it said "Take a penny. Leave a penny." She had wasted innumerable hours of her life staring into one exactly like it on her check stand at Boltzmann's Market. From this seed of familiarity, the rest of her immediate surroundings spilled out in the darkness of her mind's eye.

Anastasia had taken to looking for something actually edible for Sherri, and was now looking at crackers and cheese. _"Does she like crackers and cheese? Oh well, I'll take some anyways." _With that thought, she took a packet or two down from the shelf and shoved them in her pocket.

Sherri's left hand shot below the counter. Paper. Glossy. Serrated edge. "Tabloids…"

Her right hand broke right. Square. Textured plastic. Keyboard. "Cash register…"

Both hands shot up, connecting with an expanse of smooth plastic holding a sheet of bend cardstock across its front. "Cigarette rack!"

She turned her back toward the counter, planted her palms on its edge, and hopped her skinny behind up onto it, leaning back as far as the counterweight of her boots would allow. Both of her hands launched skyward and landed in a fully stocked rack of cigarettes, eliciting a gleeful smile from her peeling face.

"Merry fuckin' Christmas to me!"

Anastasia rounded the shelves blocking her view of Sherri and slowly sneaked up behind her. "Leave it to you, Sher!" she sighed with a laugh.

Seconds later, Sherri was lying blissfully across the counter, sucking down lungful after lungful of yellow smoke with a languid satisfaction that could have been mistaken for post-coital. Her immodest posture only added to the illusion: legs thrown apart, one boot resting on top of the register, the other swinging limply over the side of the counter. As she smoked, she noticed that the smell of decay seemed stronger here than anywhere else in the store.

Anastasia swallowed guiltily and shuddered as once again, memories of the previous night turned up like a bad penny. "Sherri, we should get out of here," she whispered to her blissful girlfriend.

Taking a long drag on her cigarette, Sherri turned her bloodied eyes towards her girl's voice. "Okay," she whispered back. "Alright, I'm done. Let's get out of here," she announced to the rest of the group. "It's like something died, but in a _bad_ way."

"For real. I can't understand how this place can smell so freak nasty of food gone bad when everything in here has a longer shelf life that the Temptations," Trent said, scanning the ingredients on a bag of Texas Grill Fritos. "I realize this is just a place for weary travelers to sugar themselves up enough to get another piece of road, but damn, homes. Vivi wants nutritional value, and this whole store has lower vitamin content than my shampoo."

"Uber-non-perishable snacks are a good thing," Bobby said, taking the bag of Fritos and stuffing them into his backpack. "We don't have refrigeration, and we don't know how long it's gonna be before we get wherever we're going. Besides, the body doesn't need nutrients. You just need to put something inside to balance out the atmospheric pressure."

"Bullshit!" Anastasia called from beside Sherri.

Trent patted Bobby's bulbous stomach with a condescending smile. "And that, my friend, is why you are two seventy-five and are barely alive, and I'm a cut one-eighty and get all the ladies."

"Hah! Whatever," Bobby snorted. "I'm pushin' three bills with the mad love skills, and you're one-eighty-eight and prone to masturbate."

"Oh, hell! Bobby, no!" Anastasia groaned.

"Holy shit," Sherri gasped, pulling her T-shirt over her nose. "Nobody told me that Trent's bullshit mouth is contagious!"

Despite Anastasia's reproachful glare, Trent swaggered over and leaned on the counter with a grin and a salacious glance.

"I believe it's called 'infectious charm,'" he oozed. "And everyone catches it sooner or later."

"I believe it's called my skirt," Sherri growled. "And everyone who stares up it gets their eyes gouged out."

"I'll do it myself, if I have to," Anastasia snarled menacingly.

The lascivious expression fell from Trent's face as he broke eye contact with the skull and crossbones glaring back at him from the crotch of Sherri's exposed panties.

Anastasia shoved him harshly away from her girlfriend and bared her fangs at him, as if challenging him to go near her.

He staggered backwards and slammed into a shelf, knocking several of its items into the littered floor. "B … but I thought you were blind!"

"I am," Sherri said, swinging her legs off the counter and being picked up promptly by Anastasia and placed on her feet gently. "But you're just so fucking _predictable_."

Trent opened his mouth to reply, but then promptly lost his grasp on the English language. "Oh m-m-my…"

"Oh relax," Sherri said. "It's just women's underwear. You'll get used to it after you've seen it more than once."

Anastasia's eyes grew yellow with rage at Trent. Her tongue flitted out of her mouth and licked her protruding fangs as her face "vamped out".

Sherri turned towards her, sensing her distress, and quietly began cooing to her. "Calm down, Anaya. He's just a prick." She let her fingers gently ghost over the bumps and crevasses of her lover's vampire-face.

Closing her eyes and concentrating, Anastasia made her features pool back together in their normal state, though her eyes flitted towards the smarmy face of Trent and narrowed to slits.

"That's my girl," Sherri whispered as she stood up on her tiptoes again to brush her lips against Anastasia's.

Bobby looked down to the items Trent had knocked off and noticed a small booklet on the floor and picked it up, flipping through its red-flecked pages as he approached the counter. "Hey, check this out. _Proper Cleaning and Maintenance of you Remington Firearm_. Huh. That's a weird thing to find on the floor of a—"

A gasp choked his words as he peered behind the counter. "Holy _shit!_"

Anastasia's face instantly vamped out again. "What?" she asked as she stalked towards Bobby, preparing to spring on whatever it was that was the source of his outburst.

Sherri sighed and stuffed her cigarette in her mouth and crossed her arms in resignation. "It's another killer mutant, isn't it?" she asked dryly.

"M … my … my … God …" Trent stammered.

Anastasia ducked her head away and let her features fall away. Too ashamed to own up to what she'd done, she shied away from the scene.

Sherri spat her smoldering butt toward the sound of Trent's reluctant stutter. The hot ember bounced off his fat forehead, breaking him from his trance.

"No, not a mutant," Bobby said at last. "Just a redneck who couldn't follow simple instructions."


	13. Chapter 13

"My stomach's gonna go inside out, for real," Trent muttered. "That shit ain't right."

Sherri blinked blindly. "What? What shit ain't right?"

"Trust me, Sher. You're better off without knowing…" Anastasia grumbled, still avoiding all of her companions' eyes.

Sherri shrugged off the words of her undead girlfriend and turned toward the checkout counter and squinted into a scarlet-splattered darkness. Of course, all she could see were the shadows of her own blood-soaked corneas, but had she retained her sight, the view would not have been very much different. Just over the register, a narrow wire brush was embedded into the wall, encrusted with a thin layer of dried gore. The brush pointed into the mouth of a double-barreled shotgun leaning against the front of a rocking chair. Between the end of the barrel and the brush was a gangly gas station clerk, outfitted with grey camouflage fatigues and with a rather sizable hole that started in his chin and went clean through the back of his mullet. What looked to be several rounded off holes penetrated both sides of what was left of his neck. The wall behind the counter was covered by a huge, blood-splattered Confederate flag with the words "DIXIE MILITIA" written across it in uneven plan brushstrokes.

"Congratulations, Sherri," Bobby said dryly. "You found the source of the smell." He glanced through his Buddy-Holly glasses towards the vamp most of them had all come to know and love. Instantly, his mind flickered over his and Erik's late night sessions of _Buffy the Vampire Slayer _marathons. Anastasia had finally found something to feed upon. Even though it had been in extremely bad taste, both literally and figuratively, he was just thankful that it hadn't been one of their own. Unless it would've been the poster boy for poseurs himself. Then it would've been alright.

Trent pulled an old field radio from a nail at the side of the counter. The knob was turned to the "on" position, but it was silent. He clicked it back and forth a few times but failed to bring it to life.

"Come on, speak to me," Sherri coached. "What are we looking at here, people?"

"Remember what you said to Viv in the shop about how people could _sell _nasty meat, but people couldn't _go down _on someone's nasty meat? You had been talking about what the tabloids were saying about the president. Well, let's just say we're looking at a _lot_ of nasty meat," Anastasia explained as she moved to wrap her arms around her lover's midsection. She let out a sigh of relief as she felt the much smaller girl lean back into her. She buried her nose in the mass of white hair atop Sherri's head. She didn't mind the overpowering scent of body oil or stale cabbage that invaded her nostrils. Their closeness was all that mattered.

Sherri let out something akin to a laugh that was smothered under her smoker's cough. "I _do _remember that. So much for him and another opportunity to shove his little commander in chief in some other intern's pie-hole… Anyway, elabourate; I'm blind, remember? I'd like to be clued in on what we're _really _looking at."

Trent returned the radio he'd been messing with to the nail and made the sign of the cross. "This poor bastard must have got the 411 about the bad-ass shit going down out there and decided to bust a cap in his own ass before someone else could."

"So it's a guy who Kurt Cobained himself?" Sherri asked, blinking her visceral eyes inquisitively.

"Not a chance," Bobby said. "This wasn't suicide. This is Darwinism at work." He flipped open the blood-sprinkled instruction manual. "_Always make sure that your firearm is unloaded before cleaning!_" he read. "Page one, fifty-point font, bold print. He probably heard an emergency broadcast and got so excited about his chance to mow down some Yankee tourists that he lost his head. No pun intended."

Trent's stomach violently heaved, but nothing came out of his mouth but noise and bad breath. He covered his mouth with both hands, but he didn't stop looking at the body.

"Alright, show's over," Bobby muttered, dropping the manual. "Let's get the hell out of here before Trent loses a lung."

"Does it have to be one or the other?" Anastasia grumbled, moving to take Sherri's hand in her own and tried to make her way towards the door leading out of the gas station.

Sherri firmly held her ground and reached behind the counter and grabbed as many packs of cigarettes as her mangled pockets could hold.

"That's fine by me, Bobby. I got what I came for."

Before Anastasia, Sherri, or Bobby could take two steps towards the door, Trent held out a hand for pause. "Wait, wait," he said. "We should take it."

"What for?" Sherri said. "TO give it a proper burial and a headstone that says 'Dumb Redneck Asshole – Died 1999 – Good Riddance'?"

"No, no," Trent said. "Not the body. The shotgun. Next time we run into one of Satan's fun-time freakouts, I'd like to have a little bit of phat firepower in our corner."

"You know, that's actually a good idea," Bobby nodded. "Go grab it and let's go already."

"I ain't tryin' to hear that, homes!" Trent squeaked. "I'm just the idea mean here. _You _go get it."

"Nu-uh. I'm not touching that shit," Bobby said. "It's got redneck blood all over it. I might get infected and suddenly like listening to Billy Ray Cyrus."

"Oh, come on, Big B. IF I get any closer to the reek on that freak I'm going to make a big ol' pot of rerun stew—you said so yourself."

"Jesus Herman Christ," Sherri cursed. "I've been in a girls' shower room and I've never been surrounded by so many pussies. _I'll _get the fucking gun."

"Sherri, babe…that might not be such a good idea," Anastasia piped up. She had been too caught up in the entertainment that she got from watching Trent and Bobby argue like an old married couple.

"Anya, I'll be alright. It's just a fucking gun and a little redneck goo. Where's the fucking harm in that?"

Anastasia took a step back, more than a little shocked by Sherri's sharpness towards her. She huffed quietly as she watched Sherri feel her way to the end of the countertop. With another seething huff, the vampire turned on her heel and exited the Ma and Pa shop to find Erik and Vivian.

Back inside, a very blind Sherri pushed through a saloon door labeled "Employes Only'!" Her boots slipped on the blood-slicked linoleum beind the counter, but she stayed on her feet, sweeping her hands through the open air.

"Come on, people, hot or cold?"

"Warm," Trent said, peering over the counter. "Getting hotter… A little to the left."

"Here?" Sherri took a step to the left and her foot came down on one of the chair's rockers. With a stiff lurch, the corpse slumped forward in the seat, forcing the cold steel barrel of the gun all the way through the hole in its skull. When the scrape of the gun shifting on the floor reached Sherri's ears, she zeroed in and grabbed its barrel with a swing of her hand.

"Got it! Now let's go!"

Sherri silently fumed at her behaviour towards Anastasia. She hadn't meant to sound so sharp, but that was just her nature. As soon as they were out of this rancid hole that had once been a gas station, she would apologize and give her girlfriend a big "make up" kiss. Since they couldn't have make up sex quite yet, she supposed that that would have to suffice.

She turned toward the bots and took a step, but with the stock of the gun firmly anchored in the skull of its owner, it refused to move an inch.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," she said. "Hold on, it's stuck on something."

"No, no! Just forget it," Bobby gagged. "Forget it! Just let it go and come on."

"I got it; I got it," Sherri spat. "Just give me a second."

With a frustrated dedication, she wrapped both hands around the barrel and started yanking it up and down against the inert human blockage like an unspeakable version of an old-fashioned butter churn. The stock banged into the floor with each thrust, throwing up corns of drained blood that splattered against her legs. With each thunderous _bang_, the clerk's empty head slide up and down the barrel like a hairy meat yo-yo.

"God, what's this thing stuck on?" Sherri muttered. "It's like pulling teeth!"

Trent gasped, choked, and then finally released the meager contents of his stomach onto the floor. With an awkward lurch that suggested only half of his brain was in on the idea, Bobby rushed through the saloon doors to stop the inadvertent desecration.

"Sherri, stop! Just stop!"

Before Bobby's words had reached her ears, the wet gun slipped out of Sherri's hands, hammering its stock into the ground and ramming the clerk's shattered jawbone into the trigger. With an explosion that rattled the windows, the second barrel of the shotgun blasted its load into the air, eradicating the end of a handing shop light.

Spitting out a half-realized expletive, Bobby threw his arms in front of his face just in time to catch the full brunt of the mangled fixture as it swung in a graceful arc from its one remaining chain. The torn metal sliced the backs of his arms before smashing him in the forehead. His face was already slicked with hot blood by the time his unconscious body hit the floor with a ground-shaking _thud_.


End file.
